


The Storm

by tigrin



Series: Amount to Nothing [3]
Category: Titan AE (2000)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Tragedy, Child Abuse, Child Death, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Cutting, Don't Have to Know Canon, Explicit Language, F/M, Harm to Children, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slavery, Slice of Life, Suicide, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 03:14:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 23
Words: 95,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1289023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigrin/pseuds/tigrin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Interquel to 'Amount to Nothing' - Tai has just been sold into slavery, but he refuses to settle in to his new surroundings; after all, his adoptive brother, Cale, is bound to rescue him soon...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story between 2009 and 2011. It takes place directly between chapters 9 and 10 of 'Amount to Nothing', but it's not necessary to have read that story to read this one. At first this story represented scattered scenes that formed in my head that I cut out of the original story for brevity's sake; ultimately I ended up writing them all down, just to get it out of my head. It's an intensely personal story I hadn't really planned on sharing, but I think I'm getting to a point in my life where I'm able to finally move on and let the story just be on its own. I guess this note is not much of a hard sell for why to read this, so I guess if it helps, the reason I wrote it was to explore the idea of what it means to cling to life in a bad situation, a situation where it's easy to feel as if that life has no real value. If you've ever wondered about it, or experienced it yourself, maybe this story has some answers for you.

The soft glow of blue lights met his waking eyes, dust turning and flitting in the stale air. His eyes strayed to the pale silver skin of a girl's face, nestled against his lap. The steady rise and fall of her chest, and the soft wisps of breath puffing against his arm, floated into his mind in slow motion. The sound of her sleep rose to his ears like the flap of a butterfly's wings. His eyelids drooped, and he drifted away to the memory of her gentle lullaby.

 A loud clang jolted him awake. The chill in the air, the sting on his face and wrists, the towering crates around him, all jumped into his consciousness in stark relief. He felt blood churn hot inside his veins, heart fluttering against his chest, as his mind pieced together where he was.

 Flashes of a dusty road, a cage, a cell, and chains passed before his eyes with a wave of nausea. Dread twisted his stomach again and brought sweat beading onto his brow. _No. This can't be it. I can't let this happen._ He looked around at the scattered piles of crates. _Hide. I could hide and wait for the door to open. and. and. make a break for it. I'll just run. I'll run._ Fixated on his escape plan, he jerked to his feet -- and the girl slid off his leg with a confused and groggy mutter.

He froze. He watched her rub her eyes wearily, blink up at him in puzzlement. _What about her? Can I leave without her? What will happen to her? Would she come with me?_ He reached down and took her hand, helping her to her feet. "Come on, we gotta hide. We're gonna make a run for it when the door opens. Okay?"

She stared at him for a moment, and began to shake her head, thin hair tossing from side to side. The noises outside the cargo bay were getting louder, and he tried to pull her away. Still shaking her head, she tugged at his arm with both hands, digging in her heels.

He stared at her in anxious bewilderment. "What's wrong? Don't you want to get out of here?"

She gazed back, eyes watering. The sound of lurching metal brought their attention to the door, where a slit of bright light was growing down the middle. The door opened, and the sudden explosion of light washed out his sight.

Footsteps echoed across the metal grating, and his mind screamed at him to get away. Cold, thin fingers held tight onto his hand. His ears were ringing, and his eyes stung. Before he could think straight enough to move, a scratchy voice growled something in an alien tongue he couldn't understand, and he felt the nip of shackles as they clamped down on his wrists. A tug sent him stumbling blindly towards the door, the girl's tiny fingers still clutching his own.

The acrid stench of fuel and dirt pierced his nose, and the humid warmth of the air settled heavily onto his skin. His eyes slowly adjusted to the light, and he blinked at the new atmosphere around him.

They were standing in the shadow of an enormous freighter, settled beside a long building. He could see a few other ships of various sizes parked nearby, or getting ready to depart on dirt runways that stretched out into the distance. For a moment, he thought back to home, and the small local airport he sometimes saw there. The thought of home brought an unwelcome pain, and he shook the images out of his head. He glanced at his side and saw that the girl was looking around in delighted fascination. She blinked up at the sun as if seeing it for the first time.

The crates from the cargo bay they had previously occupied were being stacked nearby and carried inside. Instead of following with it, they were poked and prodded towards the side of the building. Here, scattered passengers and travelers stood waiting impatiently for flights, chatting about the trips they had made, or wearily making plans for home. Some of them glanced towards the two, but just as quickly looked away.

A man stood in the shade, clutching a suitcase in one hand. The dusty suit he wore was starting to shrink around the cuffs and ankles, and it creased uncomfortably as it struggled to conform to his stocky frame. Sweat dripped down his balding scalp, and his beady black eyes squinted underneath heavy brows as he gazed at the horizon. He looked up as they approached, and the boy in chains felt his heart sink into his stomach and his face grow red. _Oh, no way. No way. No._

The man pushed away from the wall. "'Bout time! How long I gotta wait, huh?" he snarled loudly to the alien behind them. The creature stuttered apologetics before handing over the chains and a key, and scuttling away. The man watched it go for a minute, disdain wrinkling the bridge of his nose, before turning his attention to the children. Unwilling to look at the man's face, the boy stared at the key. The man's face split into a toothy grin. "What, you want this? Not yet, we got a long ways home first, and I don't want any trouble. How do'ya feel about going for a ride?"

Mummed with fury and embarrassment, the boy said nothing. In contrast, the girl brightened, and smiled up at him.

The man smirked and pocketed the key, shifting the suitcase to his other hand. "You ever been in a car, girl? Bet you've never even seen one." She slowly shook her head, and he began to chuckle. "Alright, come on then, I don't want to stand around this stinkin' place all hunching day," he snorted.

An open-air truck was waiting nearby for them, leaning on its four wheels. The boy forgot himself for a moment and gaped down at the wheels. _How lo-tech. Cale would love to take this thing apart._ He felt his heart wrench and he banished the thought, piling into the back seat next to the suitcase and the girl, still clinging to his hand. The truck tilted under the man's weight as he squeezed into the front seat and slammed the door. The engine roared to life and they began to lumber down the road away from the airport, dust spinning around the wheels and pluming into a cloud behind them.

The boy squinted as warm, dry air rushed by them and whistled in his ears. He looked down at the shackles on his wrists, and the girl's hands on top of his. He tried to shift his hands so he could place his on top of hers.

The man glanced back at them in the rearview mirror. Feeling the prickle of his gaze, the boy looked up to the eyes staring back at him in the mirror. He quickly looked away, frowning. The man grinned and turned his attention back to the road. "You remember me, don't you?" he called over his shoulder. The boy continued to stare stubbornly away from the truck. They were heading towards a stretch of canyons. There was nothing but dirt and rocks as far as he could see. "Well? Come on, speak up!"

He felt anger prickle at his chest. "Yeah, of course I do!" he snapped into the wind. The rushing air pressed against his face, making it hard to breathe. "How could I forget such an ugly face?"

It was a weak jab, and he knew it. The man just laughed. "You better get used to it, 'cause from now on, it's all you're gonna see."

The truck ambled past canyon walls into a huge open space. Cliffs encircled the area in the distance, and above them towered the faint shadow of mountains. They passed a copse of gnarled old trees into a stretch of empty fields. A huddle of wooden buildings grew steadily towards them. The decrepit form of an old, metal windmill stood sentinel amidst the tilled soil, its rusted blades static in the dead air. As they drew closer, the boy could see the small figures of other children. A few were standing in the field clutching rakes and shovels; the rest were crowded by the buildings. They all looked up from whatever they were doing as the truck rolled to a stop in front of a small garage. The boy was forced to look away as the man lumbered out of the truck and pulled the two out of the back seat. Fumbling in his pockets, he procured the tiny key. He unlocked the shackles on the boy's wrists, tossing them onto the front seat.

The boy rubbed his sore wrists and looked around. They were standing beside a large two-story house. The white paint on the wooden side glimmered in the sunlight beside the second floor windows. Steps led up to a shaded porch that stretched around the house, raised above the ground with a decorative lattice. Beyond the house was a long, H-shaped building that the other children were gathered around; behind that stood an enormous barn. The wooden buildings and the simple designs were jarring; he only remembered seeing environments like this in picture books when he was a child. His reverie was jarred by a deep cough in front of him. The man was staring at him impatiently.

"We're going to get one thing straight first. You see that road?" He pointed to the dirt road that stretched out past the fields, past the canyons, back towards the city. The boy glanced over and nodded slowly. "As you probably saw comin' in, there's nothing but dirt and rock for miles before you get to the city. It'll take you hours to get there if the heat don't get you first. By then I'll have every cop in the city looking for you. " The boy was startled when the man suddenly grabbed his left wrist and turned it up, exposing the tattooed numbers – _359172_. "And there's nowhere you can hide with these. So don't even think about trying to escape. Am I clear?"

The boy just frowned and refused to meet his eyes. The expression on the man's face grew dark and he twisted the boy's wrist sharply to the left. He hissed in pain and scraped at the man's arm, trying to loosen his grip, which only tightened in response. " _Well?_ "

The boy nodded fervently, and his arm was released. He clutched his wrist, eyes stinging. The man leaned away. "Good. Didn't think there would be a problem."

A figure moved past the curtains inside the house. "Johann? Is that you?" a muffled voice called.

The man – Johann – turned towards the house. "Yeah, come out here for a second!" he hollered at the door.

The screen door creaked open, and a woman stepped out onto the porch. Layers of petticoats drifted around her feet, barely revealing delicate ankles. An elaborately decorated corset hugged her hourglass frame, porcelain skin curving above it. Long bronze ringlets fell onto her shoulders, flowing around her soft face.

Looking at her made the boy feel uncomfortably warm. The last time he could remember seeing a human woman was his mother, and he could barely remember her. Even if he couldn't picture her well, he knew they were nothing alike. Feeling his gaze, she turned and smiled at him. He felt his cheeks burn, and he quickly looked away – her eyes were pale and unnerving, as if they were looking inside him.

She floated to the top of the steps and leaned against the porch railing. "Oh? Is this them?" she asked, turning her gaze to Johann. "Aren't they rather old?"

Johann glanced at the two children – the boy, 14, and the girl, 13 – and back to the woman on the steps. "They're about the same age as the others, they should fit. I can handle it, don't worry."

The woman smirked. "Is that so? Let me take a look." She stepped down towards them, skirts trailing behind. She looked over the girl briefly, who was holding on tight to the boy's arm. Satisfied, she turned to the boy, who was feeling more uncomfortable and irritated by the minute.

"What's your name?" she asked softly, looking him up and down.

He wrestled with how to respond, shifting his weight. "Taylor," he muttered at last, avoiding her eyes.

"'Taylor'?" she repeated. "Well, my name is Corinne. Johann," she placed a hand on Johann's shoulder, "is my husband, and he works very hard to keep our little business going. So, you be a good boy for us, hmm? Taylor?"

He stared hard down at his feet, suddenly feeling very small. Slowly, he nodded.

She smiled and brushed her hand against his cheek, giving his ear a brief tug. "Good boy." She turned to the girl beside Taylor, watching in bemusement. "Same goes for you, little girl. You're going to come with me and meet the other girls in the house. Okay?" She gently reached between Taylor and the girl, pulling her away. The girl's face contorted in alarm, and Taylor instinctively reached out and grabbed her hand. Corinne's expression hardened ever so slightly. "Don't worry. You'll see her again. Let her go." Taylor hesitated, and Corinne seized the moment to pull the girl's hand away. The two soon disappeared inside the house, the sound of Corinne's soft cajoling fading behind its walls.

Johann spat at the dirt. "Right, so you've met her. I won't tolerate any sort of disrespect towards my wife, you got that? You put one toe out of line and I cut it off."

Taylor tore his gaze away from the front door. "Yeah, sure."

Johann's brows furrowed. His jaw worked as if he was about to say something, but he let it slide. "Alright, then... time to meet your new friends."

Johann steered Taylor away from the house towards the dormitory, which by now had amassed a small crowd. Their chatter hushed as the two drew close. Taylor felt the weight of ten pairs of eyes fixed solely on him. He noted with some awe that they were all children, all around his age – except for a few short boys that looked like they were significantly younger. 

Johann crossed his arms, looking over the line-up with a critical eye. "Alright, listen up," he barked – hardly necessary, as everyone was already listening very intently. "This boy is going to be joining our little 'family'. I want everyone to get him up to speed. Setting is in two weeks and I don't want any delays. Got that?"

There was a murmur of assent and a loud "Sir, understood sir!", which gathered a few stifled laughs. Johann's gaze shot to a boy with swept brown hair and a wide grin. "Is there something funny here?" he grunted. The smiles disappeared. "Good." A shove in the back sent Taylor reeling towards the group. Taylor looked back in disdain as Johann walked away, muttering to himself.

There was an awkward silence as Taylor stood on the fringe of the group, waiting for any sort of appeal. Finally, the boy with the grin stepped forward. For a moment Taylor had an odd sense of déjàvu of the children on the _Tyrad_ , and Rivin's cocky smile. Thinking about Rivin just made him feel sick and agitated.

"Hey. What's your name?" the boy asked.

Taylor shot him a sidelong glance. "Why do you care?"

The boy placed his hands on his hips. "Why? Well, we're 'family', aren't we?" he snickered.

Taylor frowned. "No. We're not," he bristled.

The boy laughed. "Aww, come on, don't be like that!" He sidled up to Taylor and flung an arm around his shoulders. "We're gonna be together for a long time, so let's all get along, huh? After all, we're all the same, right?" The boy moved to grab Taylor's wrist.

Taylor pushed him away, seething. The boy leaned to the side, taking in Taylor's clenched fists with amusement. "Let me guess, you're new, right? First time slave?"

"I'm not a slave," Taylor spat. This was met with a chorus of snorts and giggles.

"Well then obviously you have a lot to learn!" the boy guffawed. "But don't worry, we're here to teach you. Isn't that right, guys?" He threw a glance over his shoulder at the boys behind him. "By the way, this is Kaelin," he pointed at a boy with bowl-cut, ruddy hair; "Ric," a gangly boy with long dark hair over one eye; "Big J", a tall and thickly built boy with dark skin; "and Kurt," a wiry boy with a shock of freckles who was practically hopping on the spot. He turned to the rest of the group, who were huddled away from the other boys. "And then we have Hamid," he continued, pointing to a boy with brown skin and a large cross-shaped scar over his left eye; "Kanya," a girl with bronzed skin and overalls, who was looking pointedly bored; "Alanis", a spacey-looking girl who, curiously enough, had no hair whatsoever; "and the two runts, Tu and Lorel." Two boys about half the age of the rest hovered around Alanis' skirt: the first, a distinctly Asian-looking boy with a round smiling face; the second, a very shy looking boy with light brown hair.

He turned away from the others and held out a hand. "And I'm Dover."

Taylor looked from Dover's hand up to his wrist, where a string of black numbers had been tattooed onto the skin. "I'm Taylor," he replied, ignoring the gesture.

Dover grinned. "Taylor, huh? Well, Taylor." He grabbed Taylor's hand from against his side and shook it. "Welcome to the family."


	2. Chapter 2

Corinne and the girl stood in the foyer, Corinne's delicate fingers still wrapped around the girl's wrist. Dark, carefully polished hardwood floors stretched beneath their feet. The girl gazed up in awe at a small, sparkling crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Ahead of them, a flight of stairs led up to the second floor, framed by an intricately carved wooden railing.

"I suppose we'll start with the grand tour," Corinne announced, leading the girl towards a room to the left. Wide, double glass doors lead into a spacious room. An enormous, delicately patterned rug covered the entirety of the floor. The room was lightly furnished: a couch, an armchair, and some small tables circled a brick fireplace. The mantelpiece was covered in a variety of old photographs and knick-knacks. To the left, windows looked out onto the porch. An extension off the corner of the house created a large window seat. "This is the parlor," Corinne explained. "This is where we meet guests, or where my husband and I relax." The girl smiled, eager to touch the array of beautiful fabrics, but was already being pulled out of the room.

They walked to another room above the parlor. "This is the office," Corinne began, creaking open a thick, paneled wooden door. They peered into a modest space lined with bookshelves, crammed with old-fashioned tomes. A huge oak desk sat next to the only window, looking out onto the side yard. "Johann spends a lot of time in here... if he doesn't call for you, it's best not to disturb him."

The girl nodded as they backed away from the door and walked back to the foyer. On the other side of the foyer was another room - a guest bedroom. It had one, neatly made bed, a nightstand, a cabinet and a wardrobe. A curtained door in the back led onto the porch. Beside the bedroom was a small bathroom, and beside that, the dining room. The dining room was a large, elegant room, nearly filled by an enormous table and chairs. Windows lined the walls, covered by sheer white curtains. A cabinet held a display of china dishes. The girl drew to the cabinet in awe, tracing the patterns on the dishes through the glass.

Corinne tugged the girl away from the china cabinet through a swinging door in the back left wall. They stepped into the kitchen. Tiled, white ceramic covered the floor. Thick butcher block counters stretched along the right side of the room, with cabinets above and below. A wide metal sink was set into the middle of the counter, above which was a tiny window. In the back wall a small door propped out onto the yard outside. An island crowded the center of the room, nearly covered in pots and flour. A huge stove and oven took up most of the left wall. A large cook pot was sitting on top of the stove, simmering. The scent of bread was wafting from the oven. Another door on the left wall lead into the hall.

Standing by the sink were two girls. Both were shabbily dressed and covered in food stains. They turned around when Corinne and the girl entered and quickly curtsied. The girl on the left was stocky and thickset with black skin. Crude cloth was wrapped around her chest and hips, exposing her arms and midriff. Her black hair was pulled back tightly into a bun. The other girl was small and wiry, her frame mostly hidden under a ruffled blouse and skirt. Her round face was covered in a shock of brown freckles. Her ashen brown hair was frizzled and curled, falling around her shoulders. Corinne gestured and the two lifted their heads and stood up straight.

"Girls, we have someone new joining us in the house," Corinne said, nudging the girl over to the others. "Please keep an eye on her and help her adjust to her new life here," she purred.

"Yes, Mrs. Peters," the two chimed.

"Good," she smiled, turning away. "I'll be in the parlor. I expect dinner to be served at seven o'clock, alright, girls?"

The two girls murmured their assent as Corinne disappeared into the hall. For a moment the three stood in silence while they regarded one another.

The stocky girl was the first to smile. "Hi, my name's Monifa," she said, holding a hand to her chest. "And this is Yve." The freckled girl smiled and nodded her head. Monifa turned towards Yve and gestured to the counter. "Yv', you can keep going, I got this," she whispered. Yve blushed and turned back to the counter, softly chopping up celery stalks. Monifa turned back to the blue-eyed girl. "You got a name?"

The girl stared at Monifa, perplexed. Slowly, she shook her head.

"No? Well that's alright, we'll think of something eventually," she sighed. "So, New Girl. You don't know it yet, but this is _my_ kitchen, and anyone who's gonna work in my kitchen's got to know the ground rules. Around here we live and breathe rules and schedules, so you gotta pay close attention, right?" The girl nodded and Monifa smiled. "Alright. First and most important rule! See that door over there?" She pointed to the door propped open to the yard. The girl nodded. "Right now it's okay to be open since I'm in here, but if I'm not in here, that door is always to be closed and locked. No matter what we close and lock it every night after dinner, and only I can open it in the morning. Got that? The master's real strict about our diets, and he doesn't want anyone sneaking around." The girl nodded fervently.

"The other rules you'll pick up as we go. Bow when you see the master or the mistress and hold it until they let you up. Always say 'sir' or 'ma'am'. Never talk back, never question, never argue. Never leave the house unless you are asked to. Just follow our lead and you won't fall too far behind.

"Moving on. We all get up at four AM to make breakfast. The pantry is in the basement, and I'll get what we need. We serve breakfast for the other kids at 5, and for the mister and misses at 8. We clear breakfast at 9 and split off. You haven't met Nekane yet, but she usually does the daily chores - dusting, polishing, tidying, et-cetera. You're gonna team up with her. Yve and I will take care of the kitchen and prepare lunch around noon. It's only for the master and his wife so we don't need all of us." Monifa took a deep breath. The new girl stared, feeling slightly overwhelmed. "After lunch we get a one hour break. Then we all get together to make dinner. Dinner for the kids is at 6 PM, and dinner for you-know-who is at 7:30 sharp. We usually clean up 'til 9 and it's lights out by 10. Got all that?"

The girl felt dizzy, but she nodded anyway. Monifa breathed a sigh of relief. "Great! Now, go upstairs and find Nekane. She's probably in the master bedroom. She'll tell you what to do."

* * *

 

The girl slid her hand along the polished stair rail, taking each step one at a time. She felt lost and hesitant now that she was alone, but her curiosity overwhelmed her fear. She gazed up in wonder at a small, circular window above the middle landing, streaming sunlight down onto the staircase. She climbed the last set of stairs, stepping onto the second floor. A long hallway stretched out in front of her with doors on either side. Small paintings and pictures were hung on the fading, flowery wallpaper between the doors. She was eager to look at them all, but held back. A set of double doors to her right beckoned to her, and she carefully turned the knob, peering inside.

She was looking inside the master bedroom. Even more immense than the dining room, it was filled with large, heavy wooden furniture. Windows lined the walls around the room, the soft afternoon sunlight filtering through the sheer white curtains. A large four-poster bed stood against the back wall, the linens neatly pressed and the bed made as if it had never been touched. She stepped timidly inside the room, examining an antique oil lamp on top of the dresser.

A sharp clatter drew her attention around to the left wall. A set of bifold doors were open just enough to give her a glimpse into another room. Through the crack she could see a shape moving. Curious, she drew closer, trying to get a better look.

She was looking into the master bathroom. To the left was an elegant marble tub, with a shower enclosure behind it. Several bright bulbs shone over a vanity with two sinks, the light shining off the polished marble floor. An assortment of bottles and containers sat on top of the vanity, one of which looked as if it had been recently knocked over. A girl was frantically attempting to clean up a liquid that had spilt across the counter and was now dripping onto the floor, muttering constantly to herself in an anxious stream.

From what she could tell, the girl was older than her, or any of the kids she had seen so far. She was tall, with long, matted black hair that fell past her chest and hung down into her eyes. Her eyes were as dark as her hair, and sunken, as if she had not slept in years. She wore a single piece of cloth wrapped around her breasts, and a short skirt with a long extension sewn into the middle, revealing a bit of her legs. She moved in a way that kept her arms constantly above her waist, even when she wasn't holding anything. However, this was not quite as unusual as her skin, and the girl behind the doors suppressed the urge to scream.

Every inch of her skin was covered in scars. Some were white and thin and hard to see; others deep and red, as if they were recently made. They were all placed in such careful, crossing lines that they could not have been accidental. They seemed to be centered around her chest and hips and branched out towards her arms, stopping short of her chin. The watching girl felt simultaneously intrigued and repulsed.

As if sensing her gaze, the girl's face jerked to the door, catching her eye. For a second the two stared at one another, and the girl in the bathroom jumped back so suddenly that she knocked the fallen bottle off the vanity altogether. It crashed to the floor, the shatter echoing loudly off of the marble.

There was a tense silence, and the dull sound of heavy footsteps marching up the staircase in the hall. The girl in the bathroom flew into a tearful panic, trying to scoop up the shards of glass with her bare hands. Alarmed and confused, the other girl squeezed inside the room and began pushing at the debris. They had just managed to get all of the glass into the scarred girl's hands when the bifold doors burst open.

Johann was standing in the doorway, expression wrenched between annoyance and fury. The scarred girl choked down a terrified wail, almost dropping the glass. His eyes darted from the liquid dripping off the counter, to the shards of glass glimmering in the vanity lights.

"What's going on here? Did you break something _again_ , you stupid girl?" he snarled.

The girl leapt to her feet, bowing her head, the glass clutched to her chest as if they were precious jewels. "Master, I'm sorry, I... I was cleaning off the counter and I... I..." Her voice was airy and breathless, and she stumbled over her words as if it was taking all her energy just to speak.

Without warning, Johann's hand shot out and grabbed hers, crushing her fingers onto the glass. She flinched and bit her lip, squeezing her eyes shut. " _Do you have any idea how much that cost!_ " he roared, shaking her back and forth. "Certainly more than you're worth, and almost more than you're worth to _me_ , you useless little--" He suddenly stopped, the tinny echo of his words fading from the walls. Slowly, she opened her eyes.

The new girl had her hands on top of his, brows knitted together in fear and concern. She was tugging on his hand as if to pull him away. He stared at her in shock, the edge of his mouth twitching as if to smirk.

" _Johann? Johann, dear, is that you?_ " a voice called faintly from somewhere downstairs. _"What's going on up there?"_

He suddenly pushed away. The scarred girl reeled, glass shards tinkling to the floor. "Nothing, it's nothing!" he called out the door. He turned back to the girls, glaring. " _Get this mess picked up right now_ ," he hissed, and stormed out of the room. For a moment the two listened to the pounding of his footsteps down the stairs, and the soft murmur of voices at the bottom of the stairs, before it was quiet again.

The scarred girl sagged, sinking to the floor. She began to gingerly sweep the shards of glass into a little pile with the back of her hand; her palms were bloodied from a number of tiny cuts. The new girl crouched down to help, fingers brushing the other girl's hand. She flinched as if the touch had been an electrical shock. Slowly, she relaxed.

"I'm sorry about that," she said in the same soft tone. "I'm really clumsy, sometimes... I drop things... I didn't mean to startle you." She pushed the pile into a dustpan and tilted it into a small trashcan. Shakily, she pushed herself to her feet. The other girl imitated her and stood up straight. "You're... new, right? What's your name?"

The new girl tilted her head, bemused.

"Oh... that's okay, it doesn't matter. My name's... Nekane. I'm guessing... you've already met Monifa and Yve? Did they tell you anything... about me?"

She slowly nodded her head. Nekane turned to the sink, turning a handle. Steaming water streamed from the faucet, and she held her palms under the stream, watching the blood wash from the cuts. If the cuts or the water were causing her any pain, it did not show on her face.

"I know Monifa talks a lot... you don't seem to talk much... that's okay... I don't like talking much, either... if you just follow me and do what I do... you'll be fine." She turned off the water and held up her palms. The cuts still oozed bloody, watery rivulets. She eyed the fluffy white towels hanging from the shower enclosure, and seemed to think better of it. She picked up the rag she had tried to clean up the spilt perfume with and clutched it tightly. For a long moment she stared at the other girl. "There's something... I need to tell you..." She bit her lip and shook her head, moving towards the door. The new girl followed at her heels.

They left the master bedroom and moved back into the hall. They walked around the staircase towards three doors on the other side of the hall. Nekane pointed to the door towards the back of the house. "Monifa and Yve's room." She pointed to the middle door. "The bathroom." They walked towards the last door. Unlike the rest of the house, it looked very plain. Where the doorknob should have been was a gaping hole. "This is... our room." She pushed open the door and they stepped inside.

Despite having several windows, the space was darker than any other room in the house. The curtains were heavy and blocked out much of the sunlight, and were crudely made out of some old pieces of fabric. From what the new girl could see, the room was extremely plain and poorly kept. There was a small bed against the back wall, a bare mattress on a crude frame. On top was a pillow and only a single sheet, both of which were thrown haphazardly. There was a set of doors on the right wall leading to the closet, which was overflowing with boxes. A small door beside the closet led directly to the bathroom, and was currently shut. Against the left wall was another bed, but it was mostly hidden in an alarming array of boxes, old clothing, and debris of all sorts. It seemed the room was being used mostly for storage. Nekane hurried over to it and began wrenching some of the boxes off of the bed.

"Sorry... didn't know or I would have... cleaned up... a bit..." she wheezed, sneezing as a cloud of dust wafted by. The new girl giggled behind her hands and rushed over to help. Soon the piles of junk had been moved away to an empty corner, and a bare mattress on a thin frame remained. Nekane managed to dig out a pillow and blanket from the closet and toss them on the bed, and they stood back to admire their handiwork.

"It's... not much..." Nekane said, but the girl smiled and jumped on top. She pulled back the curtain from the window above her bed and had to almost squeeze her eyes shut against the sunlight. Down below she could see the fields in front of the house. In the distance she could see a copse of trees, and beyond that, the canyons encircling the valley.

Nekane watched her look out the window, shifting uncomfortably. Slowly, she sat down on the bed next to the girl, eyes roving around the dirty floor. "Listen... there is... something..."

The girl emerged from behind the curtain, her smile fading.

Nekane seemed to wrestle with her thoughts for a moment and looked up. "At night... sometimes... no matter what... you can't get out of bed... and you can't make any noise... do you... understand?" She was shaking; the girl's brows knitted in concern. "Just... be quiet... and still... okay? You'll be... o-okay..."

The girl let go of the curtain, plunging them into darkness again.


	3. Chapter 3

The excitement over, the children began to slowly drift away back to their particular tasks. At a loss as to what to do or where to go, Taylor started to wander aimlessly after them.

"Hey, wait a second!" a voice called behind him. Taylor groaned as Dover slapped a hand on his shoulder. "Where do you think you're going, huh? Don't you want the five-star tour first?" he cajoled.

"Not if it's with you," Taylor muttered.

Dover hung off his shoulder, nearly tipping him over. "Whaaat? Come on, we're brothers now, right?"

" _No._ "

Dover craned his head up and spotted Kanya standing not far from them, talking to Alanis. "HEY, KAN-YA! SISTA!" he shouted at her.

Her head whipped around and fixed him with an icy glare. "Oh, I am _not_ your 'sista'!" she snapped back.

"Get over here and show the new kid around!"

She broke away from a flustered Alanis and stomped towards them. " _What?_ Hell no! Why don't _you_ do it?"

"'Cause I got better things to do, that's why!" he retorted, giving Taylor a shove towards her.

"Like what, comparing your dick sizes with your little friends? _Hey, get back here!_ " Dover was already walking away towards the fields, where the other boys were waiting. She turned away, kicking the dirt. "That jerk! Just because he's been here the longest, thinks he can boss the rest of us around! I ain't his bitch!" she huffed. She glanced up at Taylor, who was leaning away from her awkwardly. She rolled her eyes. "Uuuugh, let's just get this over with! So you're Taylor right?"

"Uh, yeah--"

"Yeah, great, fantastic, follow me," she interrupted. With no real alternative, and (though he hated to admit it) curious about his surroundings, he followed. "So obviously since you came through the fields you know all about that. Right now there ain't no plants in 'em, those are around back, we're gonna move 'em in a couple weeks or so. So the guys just keep the fields tilled and such. You got it? Ain't rocket science or nothing."

They stopped in front of a massive wooden building. The huge doors were currently bolted shut. "So yeah, this is the barn... we only use it around harvesting time, when we hang all those stupid plants from the rafters... otherwise we're not allowed inside, so don't go inside." They walked around the right side of the barn. Taylor's eyes passed over a wooden stake in the ground, with a short chain trailing from it, half-hidden in the dirt.

"Are there animals here?" he asked.

She tossed her hair aside. "Animals? No way! Only thing Master hates more than kids is animals!"

"Then why--"

"This building," she interrupted. " _used_ to be the overseer's cabin, I think." They were stopped in front of a small wooden cabin behind the barn, raised slightly above the ground. There was one large window in the right side and a door in the front. "I don't know much 'bout that, that was before my time, but now it's only used when one of us gets sick. It locks from the outside, so no one gets in unless you're put in."

Before Taylor could think much about this, Kanya was already walking towards another building directly to the right of the cabin. They were at the H-shaped building Taylor had noticed earlier. It was a wide, narrow building with windows along the length. There was one door on either end of the building above a short set of steps. Kanya approached the closest door and stopped, hands on her hips. The large, dark-skinned boy Dover had introduced as "Big J" was sitting on the steps, blocking the entrance to the building. In the noon sunlight with his eyes closed, he looked like a statue dipped in ink.

"Jareth! Move your big dumb ass!" she snarled.

Jareth's eyes snapped open. Slowly, his head rotated to regard her.

"Yeah, I'm talkin' to you! What are you doing here? Go do some push-ups or something if you got nothin' better to do, you great oaf!"

Jareth's small, black eyes stared straight back into Kanya's. Slowly, he rose to his feet. For a moment Taylor thought he was going to hit Kanya, but he revolved on the spot and lumbered away.

Kanya spat into the dirt. "Idiot! He's all muscle and no brains! He thinks he's tough but he won't hit a girl! Hah! I could beat his ass any day." She leapt up the now vacant staircase and pulled open the screen door, which creaked loudly. Taylor squeezed past her. "So, anyway, this is where we all sleep," she said.

Inside was one long, narrow room, with the bars of the H on either end. There were sleeping mats laid out on the floor down the length of the building. At the end was a stove. There were no decorations to speak of and very few personal items to distinguish one bed from another. The room was currently empty; everyone was outside.

"Since you're new, you're probably gonna get the crappy spot furthest from the stove," she said, pointing at a particularly beaten old mat at her feet. She shrugged and walked back out the door. Feeling more disheartened by the second, Taylor followed.

They walked around to the back of the building. In a corner was a wooden bin large enough for Taylor to fit comfortably inside, and then some. It was currently filled with dark, murky water. Several rags were hanging out of it, and some washboards were just visible above the water. "This is the wash tub," Kanya explained. "We all gotta do our own laundry, which ain't much, since it's not like we got a lot of it. We gotta bathe from this too, but we're only allowed to dump it and refill it once a week, so... try not to get it too dirty." Taylor stared in horror at the washtub. Kanya laughed and turned away. "Hey, whatever you got, we already seen it, so don't flatter yourself!"

Eager to get away from this train of thought, Taylor followed Kanya away from the dorms. They passed a small open area with a fire pit, next to a door leading into the manor kitchen. Behind all the buildings was a wide area of fields, smaller than the fields out front. It was currently filled with green seedlings, poking out of hills almost as high as his knees. Alanis, Hamid, and the two children were back here. Hamid was the only one who seemed to be doing anything important; the two young boys were running around the field chasing each other, with Alanis following fretfully at their heels, trying to keep them from stepping on the seedlings.

"Hey, whoa! What's going on here? _Lorel!_ " Kanya called. One of the boys suddenly stopped, and Alanis nearly tripped over him. "Stop messing around!" The boy turned scarlet and sunk to his knees, patting the dirt with his hands. Kanya covered her face with her palm. "This is the seedbed... this is where we plant all those little seeds 'fore we move 'em to the fields," she explained. "And, uh... well... that's 'bout it, except for the outhouse," (she pointed to a very small building behind the overseer's cabin) "the garage, and the shed... 'bout anything else you need to know, you'll figure out 'ventually."

Taylor stood for a moment, feeling overwhelmed. He had seen pictures of farms in picture books as a child, but those farms always had little red barns and cartoon farm animals. He certainly did not remember anything in nursery rhymes or storybooks that came close to this. "Um, Kanya, right?"

"Yeah, that's right. You catch on quick," she drawled, crossing her arms.

"If he hates kids, why are there only kids here?"

Kanya sagged, massaging her temple. "Really, do I gotta be the one that explains that to you?" She paused, searching. "You know what a dog is, right?"

"Yeah, of course--"

"Well, let's say you gonna get a dog. You get an old dog, and it's big and tough, and it only knows what it's been taught and won't listen to nothing else. A dog like that is hard to train, right? So what do you do?"

Taylor felt recognition sink into him. "You get a puppy."

"That's right. A puppy don't know nothing 'bout nothing, and if you tell it what to do, it won't know any better. And it's small, so if it bites you, you can easily slap it away. A dog like that is easy to make your own."

Kanya sighed. "Well I did my bit, so go back to Dover and tell him to take care of things himself next time! I got better things to do than play with the new pup'! Oh, and one more thing." She looked Taylor in the eye. "I know they bark a lot, but don't mess with Dover's dogs. They're a pack, and they got a nasty bite. So just keep your tail between your legs where it belongs." With that she turned and walked towards the others in the seed field.

* * *

Taylor strolled back towards the empty fields, hands in his pockets, kicking at the dirt as he walked. He wasn't in a particular hurry to go anywhere near the kid named Dover again, but with no other sense of direction or purpose he headed there anyway. As he walked, he contemplated what he had just seen and heard from Kanya. _What is with this place? It's so old-fashioned,_ he thought, glancing up at the manor. Although he had met a lot of scorn whenever he mentioned living on Vusstra, for the most part, he had led a comfortable and sheltered life. He wasn't quite sure how to take in this new environment, or what to think of the people around him. He had not seen so many humans in one place since he was a small child. Growing up with Tek, he was forced to endure a lot of lectures and readings about human history and how great humans were, and how important it was for humans to band together. Taylor couldn't help but think that the reality must be very different, even though he had barely begun to get to know these new people. _Not that I want to._

He walked along the path running down the middle of the fields, eyeing the figures of Dover and the others. They had spread themselves out, working across the field in rows, but were still close enough to talk with one other without needing to shout. As he approached the figure he recognized to be Dover, he could hear them laughing. Catching the movement out of the corner of his eye, Dover looked up to see Taylor approaching.

"Hey, it's the new kid!" he greeted loudly, getting the attention of the other boys on either side. They were looking at Taylor with the same mixture of resentment and curiosity that he had noticed earlier. Taylor shot an indignant glare back at them. Dover watched this quick exchange go on with a smirk, leaning on the handle of a rake. "So, what do you think? Home sweet home, right?"

"Yeah, right. At least on Vusstra we had basic plumbing," Taylor shot back.

The other boys had abandoned what they were doing and come up beside Dover. "Vusstra, huh? That must be like living in the lap of luxury, huh guys?" The other four chuckled, though not quite as loud as the boy with ruddy hair, Kaelin.

Taylor was no stranger to sarcasm, and he refused to back down from a battle of wits. "Like you would know," Taylor retorted. "When was the last time you bought something? Oh yeah... I forgot."

This definitely hit a sore spot. The boys stopped laughing, and Taylor could practically feel the heat in their glares. Dover's composure seemed to falter for a second, because his knuckles turned white on top of the rake handle. "You've got a smart mouth for someone who just got off the auction block himself," Dover spat.

"Well it's not like I'm planning on staying here," Taylor said. "You think I'm going to rot here with you the rest of my life?"

"Oh yeah? What's your plan, then? Just gonna walk away? Where d'you think you're gonna go? Do you know what happens to runaways?"

Taylor glanced away from Dover's gaze. "It won't matter. I've got people looking for me."

At this Dover broke into a barking laugh, dropping the rake. "What, you think... your family's gonna... buy you out or something?" he coughed out in-between breaths. "You think they're really gonna find you?"

Taylor bristled. "Yeah, of course! I saw them!" At this the other boys broke out laughing as well.

Dover wheezed, leaning on his knees. "Listen... do yourself a favor and forget about them. I've been here eight years. I've seen dozens of slaves come and go. I've never seen anyone go home. The sooner you get used to that, the better."

"Gee thanks, I'll keep that in mind," Taylor said, starting to turn away. He felt a hand grab his arm and looked back at Dover.

"Well until they come to get you, you're one of us, and you're gonna work like the rest of us," Dover said. He let go of Taylor's arm and thrust the handle of the rake at him. Taylor fumbled to keep from dropping it. The other boys turned away, going back to their positions in the field.

"And what if I don't?" Taylor retorted.

Dover grinned. "Do you want me to be the one that explains that, or Master? Either way is fine by me."

For a moment they stared at one another, and Taylor slowly turned away to find an empty spot in the field.

* * *

Mouthing off was one thing – living up to it was another. As the afternoon wore on, Taylor discovered more and more just how incompetent he was with manual labor. Although he tried his best to keep up, he simply could not match the speed or efficiency of the other boys. That they were talking and laughing the whole time, as if the work had no effect on them, only made him feel more annoyed and frustrated.

The afternoon stretched into the evening. A chill breeze swept away the heat and humidity of the day. Taylor could feel the sweat on his back and chest stinging in the cold air. He was the only one still left in the field, trying to pull a particularly stubborn weed out of the soil. In the distance he could see the glow of a fire behind the dormitory, and hear the children’s voices echoing off the canyon walls. Finally managing to pull the weed free, he tossed it aside and stood up straight, stretching. He watched as the sun dipped below the tops of the canyons, the air rippling with the passing heat. Taylor had not seen so many colors in a sunset – indigo blues, burnished golds and deep reds – since he could remember. For a moment he appreciated being able to breathe in fresh air untainted by the stench of sulfur or smog. At the same time, that he felt any appreciation at all for this place made him feel disgusted with himself.

With nothing left to do, he turned and walked back through the fields. After some searching, he managed to find a tool shed to return the rake to. He tossed around the idea of joining the others. For the most part, he wanted nothing to do with them and had no desire to get to know them. He felt awkward and out of place, and interacting with the others only made him feel more isolated and strange. The only thing that felt right out of everything was meeting the girl from the cargo hold. He wanted to see her again, and he felt he might if he got closer to the others. With some resignation, he walked around to the back of the dormitory.

In the open space between the dormitory and the back fields, the children had put together a small fire. They were huddled around it, some talking, others just sitting and resting. Close by was the side door into the kitchen, propped open to tempt in the evening breeze. The glow of the kitchen lights fell warm and inviting onto the dirt, and Taylor caught the enticing scent of supper on the breeze. His stomach growled and he swayed; he had never gone this long without eating, and he felt almost sick at the thought.

As he got closer to the fire, he got a better look at who was there. Dover’s gang monopolized the best spots closest to the fire. Kanya and Alanis were sitting just outside the circle, Alanis holding both of the young boys as they struggled to stay awake. Hamid was sitting a little further away with his arms wrapped around his knees, gazing blankly at Dover and the others. His heart sunk a little bit – he didn’t see the girl from the cargo hold anywhere. _She must still be inside_ , he realized, and glanced towards the kitchen door.

Dover looked up to see Taylor stepping into the light. “Newww kiiiddd! About time!” he cried. “What, were you taking a nap?”

Taylor gave Dover only a cursory glance and turned towards the kitchen, ignoring him.

“You’re not going into the kitchen, are you?” the wiry boy with freckles asked. _What was his name again? Kurt?_

“Monifa’s gonna flay you if you go in there,” Kanya called.

_Monifa? Who’s that?_ Taylor wondered, but pressed on anyway. He stepped up to the kitchen door, feeling everyone’s eyes staring intently at his back. No sooner had he begun to peer into the kitchen than he felt something hit his nose so hard, lights popped in front of his eyes. “ _Ow!_ ” he yelped, clutching his nose.

“ _Excuse_ me?! What are you doing in here?” he heard a girl’s voice snap. He opened his eyes a crack to see a dark-skinned girl in an apron with her hands on her hips, staring him down. A spoon ladle was clutched in one of her hands. _I’m guessing this is Monifa_ , he thought.

“Uh, I was--” he stammered, trying to peer around the girl, who appeared to fill the doorframe in her wrath. Through the cracks in her arms he could see three other girls in the kitchen, looking mostly torn between shock and amusement. His heart leapt when he recognized one of them, and for a second he forgot what was directly in front of him.

“You’re the new kid, right?” the girl said. “I’ll give you a break since you don’t know, but you’re not allowed in here!” She shook the spoon ladle at his face. He could feel his nose sting in fear.

“What? Why not?” he protested, attempting to sidle around her.

“OUT! Out out _OUT!_ ” she screeched, battering him with the ladle. He threw up his hands in defense and stepped back, losing his balance and toppling backwards down the steps onto the dirt. He could hear everyone around the fire laughing. Kurt was practically shrieking, wiping away tears. Even Hamid was repressing a chuckle. Face burning, he pushed himself off of the dirt and brushed himself off.

“Yeah, haha, hilarious,” Monifa said, rolling her eyes. “Dinner’s almost ready, so shut up and get your--”

Whatever she was about to say, Taylor didn’t get to hear, because the others had leapt up from their spots and shot towards the door. Taylor found himself being pushed and shoved to the back of a line stretching back past the fire. Hamid glanced over his shoulder to give him a look torn between pity at Taylor’s misfortune and glee at his own. Taylor slumped and gave a heavy sigh. Hunger gnawed at his gut, but he simply did not have the energy to fight his way back to the front of the line. He waited as each of the others in turn walked past with plates of food, getting an extra shove from each member of Dover’s gang as they passed. Finally he was the last one in line, and he walked shakily up the steps, careful not to cross the threshold.

The girl from the cargo hold was standing on the other side of the doorway, holding a plate. When she caught sight of him, she blushed and nearly dropped it.

“Hi,” he said, at a loss for what else to say.

She smiled and held the plate out to him. He took it, glancing down at the contents. There was very little on it, just a helping of rice with some lumps of green he assumed were vegetables. He felt his heart sink a little, but at this point he was too hungry to care. “T-thanks,” he said, and she smiled wider. He considered eating it right there, but his heart was having a war with his stomach. He glanced back over his shoulder; everyone else was too engrossed with their food to pay any attention to him. “Hey, do you think we can talk for a second?” he whispered to her.

She looked puzzled and glanced back over her shoulder as well. The other three girls were busy cleaning up and cooking dinner for the Peters. Slowly, she looked back to Taylor and nodded. He let go of his plate with one hand and took her hand, leading her around the corner to the back of the house. Once Taylor was satisfied they were out of earshot, he slumped against the wall. He made a vain attempt to wipe the dirt off his hands, and began shoveling food in his mouth. It didn’t take long to completely clear the plate. Blinking, she sat next to him.

Taylor took a deep breath and set the plate aside, ignoring the hunger still grating at him. “So…” Taylor started, fishing for a subject. “How are you? Are you okay?”

She stared at him for a moment and nodded.

“Can you talk? I mean… well, you must talk, I heard you sing.”

She began to nod, and – as if realizing this was not speaking – said in a quiet voice: “Y-yes.”

“Do you have a name?”

Again she stared at him, and then looked down to the ground. Slowly, she shook her head.

“Really? Oh… well…” He glanced away, thinking. “Do you want me to think of one for you?”

At this she brightened and smiled, nodding her head. He felt himself smiling back.

“Yeah? Okay… uh… I’m not very good at this sort of thing…” He looked up at the stars. He wasn’t sure what sort of name would be appropriate for a girl. He couldn’t remember anything in particular that he had heard on Earth, and a Vusstran name did not seem appropriate at all. He tried thinking of things that reminded him of her. Immediately he thought of her lullaby that she sang to him. _Music… a song… a melody?_

“What about Melody?” he suggested. He wasn’t sure if a word like that could really count as a name, but then again, he knew his name was just a variation of “tailor”. He liked the sound of “Melody” – it instantly reminded him of her voice, her blue eyes, and her smile.

The girl blinked at him and grinned. Taylor smiled back at her nervously. “I-is that okay? Melody?” The girl nodded so broadly her hair tossed around her shoulders. He laughed. “Okay… Melody it is then.”

“Wh… what is your name?” she asked.

He hesitated, wondering how he should respond. He had been telling everyone his name was Taylor, but that was only because it was his given name. “Tai” was a nickname that made him think of home, and he did not want to hear it here. Looking back at Melody, he could not feel the same way. “It’s… Tai,” he said.

“’Tai’?” she repeated, and he nodded.

“But… don’t tell anyone else that… that’s just between you and me, okay?” he whispered.

She gave him her best serious look, furrowing her brow, and nodded.

“Hey, what’s going on back here?” a voice suddenly cut in above their heads. Taylor and Melody looked up, startled.

Dover was standing over them, his gang standing slightly behind. He was looking down at them with a mixture of curiosity and mischief. He glanced from Melody to Taylor and back. “What’s this? Do you have a girlfriend, Taylor?”

Taylor leapt to his feet. “It’s not like that!” he snapped. Melody picked up the empty plate and hugged it to her chest, rising shakily to her feet. She eyed Dover and the others apprehensively.

“What were you doing, kissing?” Dover mocked, and the boys behind him made smacking noises with their lips and laughed.

Melody blushed and Taylor clenched his fists. “No! We were just talking!”

“Taylor’s got a girllllfriend! Taylor’s got a girllllfriend!” Dover sang, and the group picked it up and began to chant loudly.

“Shut _up!_ ” Taylor yelled, giving Dover a shove. Dover’s smile faltered and he shot Taylor a dark look.

“What? You want to fight?” he snarled, shoving Taylor back. The mood had instantly changed; the other boys were starting to circle around Taylor, cutting him off from Melody and trapping him against the wall. Taylor’s eyes darted from Dover to the others. He was used to getting in fights with Cale, and had never lost; but they were never seriously attempting to hurt each other, and it was just the two of them. While he felt he might be able to take Dover on, he knew there was no way he could take on all five of them at once. Dover gave him another shove, breaking into his thoughts. “What? Think you’re too good to hit me? Or are you just scared?”

“I’m not scared!” Taylor retorted, but this was definitely a lie. Being shoved and cornered was giving him flashbacks to the store on Vusstra, where three aliens had towered over him and challenged him to fight back – and he had done nothing. He glared around him and clenched his fists, but he could feel himself sweating, and he jumped in surprise as he felt his back hit the wall.

“Oh yeah? Then hit me! Come on!” Dover taunted, shoving Taylor’s shoulders so he slammed against the wall. “Fight back! Hit me!” He kept shoving Taylor’s chest and repeating the same taunts. Taylor felt his courage leaving him and fear prickling at his mind. Frustrated with Taylor’s lack of response, Dover swung his fist, hitting Taylor in the shoulder. Dover moved to swing again and Taylor ducked out of the way to an open spot in the circle.

“Where are you going? There’s nowhere to run!” Dover shouted, rounding on Taylor. He made a wide swing at Taylor and Taylor jumped back. He ducked another swing and backed into the smallest boy, Kaelin, who shoved him back towards Dover. This time Dover’s punch connected with Taylor’s stomach, and he buckled. He felt himself being hauled back to his feet by his collar and punched in the stomach again. He doubled up in pain, trying to push himself away from Dover’s grip and out of range of his punches. He aimed a kick at Dover’s shins, and Dover tripped. At this, the other boys jumped into the fray.

By now the commotion had amassed a small crowd. Alanis and Hamid were standing close by with the two smallest boys, as if unable to decide if they wanted to get closer. Kanya was trying to fight her way inside and was shouting profanities, trying to pick a fight. Melody was running around the outside of the circle, and ducked out of sight. Soon she was back with the girls from the kitchen.

“Hey, break it up, break it up!” Monifa shouted, attempting to push aside some of the boys to get into the middle.

“WHAT’S GOING ON HERE?” a voice bellowed from behind them.

Instantly there was silence as everyone stopped to look back. Johann was standing looking down at the scene. His eyes were so narrow they were almost slits.

Quickly the boys disentangled themselves from each other, looking down at the ground. Taylor was sprawled on the dirt, coughing, blood dripping from his nose. Johann took in the bruises and dirt on the other boys and his eyes practically disappeared under his brows.

“They were fighting, sir,” Monifa explained quietly.

“I know that, do you think I’m blind?!” he snapped, and everyone flinched. Taylor pushed himself up into a sitting position, trying to wipe the blood from his face. “Who started it?”

Everyone glanced at Dover, then down at Taylor. Taylor blinked up at them through a swollen eye, then over to Johann, who was walking towards him and Dover. He tried to push himself to his feet, but his stomach hurt too much to stand.

“Sir, I caught him sneaking around back here with the new girl,” Dover said. Taylor glared at him.

“Huh?” Johann looked back at Melody, who startled and ducked behind Nekane. He looked back at Dover, then down at Taylor. “Is that true?”

Taylor glanced up at him and away. “Uh, well…”

Johann reached down and grabbed Taylor by the collar, hauling him to his feet and slamming him against the wall. Taylor suppressed a yelp of pain. “Don’t even think of lying to me, boy!” he growled, shaking Taylor. “This is not a playground! I won’t tolerate you messing around with my things! You either learn your place or I put you in it, is that clear?”

“Y-yes,” Taylor sputtered, trying to push Johann away. This just incited a more violent slam against the wall, and he flinched.

“Yes _sir_ ,” Johann corrected.

“Yes s-sir,” Taylor said, and Johann let go. He fell to his knees, coughing. Johann spun around to face Dover, who jerked in surprise, but stood his ground.

“It’s not _your_ job to punish _my_ slaves!” Johann rebuked. “Next time I catch you doing this I’m matching whatever happens to him to you, got that?”

“Sir!” Dover acknowledged, the others around him muttering in assent.

Satisfied, Johann began to walk back towards the kitchen door. “Alright, get to bed, the lot of you! You four, back in the house!” he snapped at Melody and the other girls, who quickly turned and ran back in the house. The other children began to drift towards the dormitory, muttering to one another once Johann was back in the house. Dover hung back, watching as Taylor leaned against the ground, catching his breath.

“Don’t think I’m done with you just because _he_ says so,” Dover said in a low voice. “We’re doing you a favor, really. If you can’t handle us, you won’t last a week here.” With that he turned and walked away, following the others.

* * *

Taylor waited until everyone was inside, and he could hear their muffled voices through the plank walls. He went to the washtub and peered into the murky water, black and still in the night air. He leaned down and splashed water on his face, trying to wash away the blood and dirt, reveling in the sting of the cold water. Wiping his face on his sleeve, he walked around to the front of the building. Light spilled out from the large windows onto the ground, and he could see the other children settling in for the night. After what just happened, he did not feel eager to join them, despite the exhaustion weighing down on him. He turned and collapsed on the step Jareth had occupied earlier in the day. Now that night had fallen, it was getting colder, and he pushed his knees to his chest and crossed his arms. He stared out in front of him at the fields. Outside of the pool of light, it was impossible to see anything but silhouettes. He could just barely see the tops of the canyons in the distance against the glow of city lights. He stared into the darkness, feeling every bruise and sore burning and stinging. His hunger was now just a constant dull ache.

Taylor shivered and looked up at the stars. The sky was so clear that he could see thousands of them, in different sizes and brightness and formations. Even if the sight of stars was familiar, he did not recognize any particular one, which only made him feel more lost. Vaguely he wondered just how far away he was from home, or even where he was at all. _Cale will find me,_ he thought determinedly, trying to brush away dark thoughts. _I know it. It can’t be that far._

Still the weight of his situation crushed down on him. So much had happened so fast, which only made it harder to accept. Not that he wanted to accept anything that had happened. He felt like he would lose something somehow to admit everything around him was real, down to the numbers on the inside of his wrist. He tilted his wrist up to the light, the skin still red and slightly swollen around the black lines.

The voices were quieting down inside, and the lights began to blink off, the last one by the door. The screen door creaked open behind him. He quickly shoved his wrist against his knees. Footsteps paused behind him. “Are ya still out here? You gotta come in now, we all have to go to bed,” a voice said above him, one he already recognized as Kanya. He didn’t respond, curling in on himself more. He heard a sigh. “I warned you, didn’t I? Come on, you’re gonna get us all in trouble.” He heard her bare feet turn and walk back inside, the door rapping shut. The light switched off, plunging him into darkness. He pushed himself up slowly and followed her inside.

The sleeping mats were now all occupied, their inhabitants either already asleep, or propped up on their elbows whispering to their neighbor. A few of those still awake glanced up at him as he walked in and looked away. Taylor stepped over to the tattered mat in the corner that Kanya had pointed out earlier. There was no real bedding to speak of aside from a ratty old blanket. Still, it was an improvement from the cell on the _Tyrad_ , and he plopped down with a sigh. He laid down facing the wall, pulling the blanket on top of him, which barely reached past his feet. For a moment he stared at the wall, listening to the unintelligible whispering on the other side of the room. He was so exhausted he thought that he would fall asleep instantly, but as time stretched and the voices died away, replaced with snores, he realized it was not going to be that easy. He rolled over and clenched his eyes shut, trying to will his mind to calm down. He kept seeing images of recent events flashing through his mind’s eye, kept feeling the flashes of fear and pain and confusion. The insomnia on top of everything else was stretching his emotions to a breaking point, and he fought down tears.

_Cale, please hurry_ , he thought.

* * *

Melody had received a short lecture after returning to the kitchen, and for a little while, the other three girls avoided her as if she might be carrying something contagious. She kept her distance, accepting whatever task was assigned to her. Gradually the other girls warmed up to her again, and she tailed Nekane around, watching her work. As the evening wore on, she noticed that Nekane’s behavior became more erratic and nervous, so much so that she nearly poured tea on Corinne after dinner, avoiding it by dripping it on herself instead. Corinne waved this off as a common event, though she had had been upset at the news of her perfume. Nekane apologized profusely, to the point that she was shooed from the room out of sheer annoyance.

With everything done and the Peters in bed, Nekane and Melody returned to their room. There was no lamp or light aside from starlight from the window, which didn’t seem to bother Nekane at all. She made an extra effort to hide in the bathroom when changing into her nightgown. As they settled into bed, Melody could see her shaking. Concerned, but sleepy, she nestled her head into her pillow and drifted off to sleep before she could think any more about it.

She awoke in the middle of the night, at first not sure what had woken her up. As her eyes and hearing adjusted, she began to hear voices coming from the other side of the room. She heard a low, deep voice mumbling something, and a soft, breathy sob. Confused, she rolled over.

A dark shape was hovering over Nekane’s bed. She squinted, and could just recognize Johann’s form in the darkness. She realized he was naked from the waist down; he was moving over Nekane and muttering something she couldn’t hear. Nekane had her hands over her face, trying to stifle her sobs. She was naked.

Melody gasped, startling Johann out of what he was doing. He looked up and she buried her face in the pillow. She heard the bed and the floorboards creak as Johann got up and walked over to her bed. Slowly she tilted her head to look, his dark silhouette leaning over her. She felt the bed squeak and lean as he climbed up next to her.

“You… I don’t want you going near that boy again, you hear?” she heard him mutter. She curled up, hugging her knees, and nodded. She heard Nekane cry a little louder. “You’re mine now.” She buried her face in her arms, feeling her heart beating wildly against her knees. Hands were pulling at her arms, trying to pry her legs away from her chest. She tried to push him away, but he easily pinned both her hands above her head and held her legs out straight with his. She felt his weight leaning down on him, catching the acrid smell of sweat. She suppressed the urge to scream, glancing over at Nekane, who was watching her in stunned horror. She clenched her eyes shut.


	4. Chapter 4

Taylor had just started to fall asleep when a sharp pain in his back startled him awake. His eyes snapped open and he twisted around, squinting through a haziness of lethargy, to see a pair of feet. His head craned up to Dover’s face, barely visible in the half-light.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!” Dover chimed. “Wakey wakey!”

Taylor groaned and turned back towards the wall, pulling the blanket up over his head. There was a rush of cold air as the blanket was ripped off of his face and thrown aside. He heard heavy footfalls approaching and something clamp onto his shoulders and lift him, bodily, out of bed. Taylor caught a glimpse of Jareth before he was thrown to his feet.

“Hey, what the hell?!” Taylor bristled, now fully awake and already irritated from lack of sleep. “It’s not even light out yet!”

“Exactly! Don’t want to waste the day away!” Dover said, turning away. The dorm, which Taylor last remembered being filled with the sound of snores, was now filled with hushed voices and the periodic slam of the screen doors opening and closing. Most of the other children were already outside. Dover and Jareth moved away to join the others.

The sores of yesterday were starting to come back to him with full force, spurned on by the protest of his exhausted muscles. Waking up back here in this place was much more of an affront, and all he wanted to do was go back to bed and forget about it for a while. Let Dover and the others just _try_ to stop him. What could they do about it? Sleepiness settled on him like a weight, and he slumped back down to the mat and curled up, thoughts and worries drifting away like smoke.

There was a stretch of black, and the next thing he knew, there was a loud slam, and something grabbed his ankles. Before he could comprehend what was going on, he was being dragged on his back across the floor, over the threshold, down the steps, and out onto the dirt. A burst of light stung his eyes and he had to throw his hands up to block it out – the sun was out. Vaguely he wondered how long he had been asleep, and what was happening. His back burned and stung, bringing his surroundings into further relief. He pulled his hands away and looked up.

Johann was staring down at him. His skin had the raw, flushed look of having recently been washed, and his hair was slicked back. His freshly pressed clothing was somewhat disheveled, as if he had thrown it on in a hurry. Taylor could see the sky above Johann’s head had already lost the pinkish hue of sunrise. He must have been asleep for at least a couple hours.

“What the _hell_ are you doing still asleep?!” Johann barked.

Taylor moved to get up, but Johann stomped a foot to his chest, pinning him to the dirt. Too tired and stunned to fight back, Taylor just stared in bewilderment at the shine on Johann’s polished boot. “I was tired,” he replied.

“’Tired’? _Tired_?” Johann repeated with an air of incredulity.

“Yeah, are you deaf?” Taylor mocked. This earned him a sharp kick in the stomach, still sore from last night’s encounter with Dover’s gang. Speak of the devils; the commotion was attracting a crowd of other children, who were giving Johann a wide berth. Taylor clutched his stomach. There wasn't any part of him he could think of that wasn’t sore in some way.

“You get up when I tell you to get up! I don’t give a shit if you’re tired!” Johann spat. “If you don’t like it then you don’t eat! I’ll cut you _all_ off if this happens again!” Taylor could see the expressions of the other children grow mutinous at this. Johann stepped back and allowed Taylor to push himself, painfully and shakily, up into a sitting position. “I’m not your mother, God save that bitch for begetting a bastard like you. If you don’t want to follow my rules I _will_ strike you down, you got that?”

The slight on his mother was so unexpected that Taylor just stared up at Johann, so shocked and enraged his skin blanched. He thought he would rather endure another kick to the stomach than make any indication of agreement with this, but when Johann lifted his foot to make good on his threat, Taylor instinctively lifted his hands to protect himself and blurted out, “Y-yes.”

“ _Sir_.”

“Sir.”

Johann let out a snort like an irritated horse and spun on his heel, walking away towards the manor. The children scrambled to get out of his way. “Make sure he doesn’t eat!” he snapped over his shoulder at them. They watched anxiously until he was back inside the house and most of them scattered back to their assignments.

Dover hung back, watching Taylor as he struggled to pull himself to his feet. Taylor shot him a glare. “You knew he was going to do that, didn’t you? That’s why you didn’t try and wake me up again?”

Dover’s face split into a wide grin. “It was risky, but it was worth it,” he answered coyly. “Trust me when I say it’s not gonna happen again.” He turned and began to walk towards the tool shed. “Don’t bother going to the kitchen today!”

Taylor watched him for a moment, feeling frustration and hunger gnaw at him like a diseased rat. _Shit shit shit_. He started after Dover and braced himself for a long, long day.

* * *

The day crawled by as Taylor struggled to keep up with the others and ignore the gnawing sensation in his stomach. Hunger did nothing to help his irritation at the humiliation of the morning, the ache in his arms and back -- well, practically everything was irritating at this point, down to the incessant stare and unrelenting presence of Johann.

Taylor had assumed that Johann was a (particularly rough and mean-spirited) aristocrat who would not dare to get his hands dirty, and at first, this seemed right. For the first two hours after the incident in front of the dorm, Johann was nowhere to be seen. As the sun climbed higher in the sky, Taylor noticed Johann standing in the shade of the porch, staring. Being watched was unnerving; the pressure made it harder to concentrate, and he started to fall behind. He didn't notice Johann moving through the fields until he almost ran into him.

"Hey, watch it!" he snapped, too annoyed and frustrated to keep from blurting out the first thing on his mind. His eyes drifted up to Johann's glaring back at him. He straightened up, partly out of surprise, partly to try and even out the height difference. The look on Johann's face told him he should apologize, but he turned the handle of the rake in his hand and said nothing.

Johann was chewing on something; he was standing close enough that Taylor could catch whiffs of something bitter and unfamiliar every time he worked his jaw. He stared at Taylor for a long moment, then spat at the dirt at his feet. "How you gettin' along back here?" he said.

_He doesn't really talk like an aristocrat, either_ , Taylor thought snidely. "Fine," he replied, looking away. He didn't want to have to breathe any more of Johann's breath than he needed to. He listened to Johann's jaw smack as he chewed.

"You got no clue what you're doin', do you?"

Taylor said nothing, just stared over Johann's shoulder at Dover not far away, who had paused in his work to glance back at him.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you."

The command did not make him feel any more inclined to look at Johann again; if anything, just the opposite. He twisted the rake in his hand and moved as if to start working again.

Johann seized Taylor's wrist and wrenched the rake out of his grip. Still refusing to meet Johann's gaze, he tried to move away, but Johann pulled him back and smacked him across the face. Stunned, he froze and held his cheek where it stung. "Don't ignore me," Johann said, voice low and threatening. Taylor stared at a spot just below Johann's neck. Johann let go of Taylor's wrist and grabbed his chin, forcing Taylor's eyes up to Johann's face. When Taylor was able to hold his gaze for more than a few seconds, Johann let go. Taylor stepped back, feeling his cheeks burning from more than just the blow. Johann paused, chewing. "Where are you from, boy?" he asked after a moment, tone slightly more relaxed.

Taylor wasn't fooled; better to answer quickly, if only to get back to work and get away from Johann. "Vusstra," he replied.

"What'd you do on Vusstra?"

Taylor wrestled with how to respond. "I don't know... nothing."

"Nothing," Johann repeated.

Taylor could not think of anything to say, only stared at the rake in Johann's hands.

"Do you know why you are here?"

He could think of any number of things to say to this, but nothing that might not lead to getting hit again. "No... sir." He threw Johann a bone, hoping to end the conversation faster.

Johann didn't take the bait. His expression hardened. "You're here because I bought you. The sooner you get used to that, the better off you'll be. Where you came from, what you did, who you knew don't matter anymore. All that matters is what I tell you. Got it?"

Taylor set his jaw and wrestled with his options. He settled on the easiest. "Yeah," he said. Johann's grip tightened on the handle of the rake and Taylor backpedaled. "Err... yes... sir."

Johann shoved the rake at Taylor and he took it, half relieved and half annoyed. The relief was short-lived as Johann turned and whistled, and Dover came running over. Johann motioned towards Taylor. "Make sure he does it right," he said to Dover, and lumbered away. Dover watched him go for a moment and looked back to Taylor. He took in the red mark on Taylor's cheek and grinned.

"So? What'd he say?" Dover pried.

Taylor just glared at him; he was sure Dover must have heard the whole thing. "None of your business." He turned away and started to work again, digging violently and indiscriminately at the dirt.

Dover watched him for a moment and sighed, snatching the rake away. "Come on, let me show you how to do it. We just gotta go back and fix it if you fuck it up, anyway."

* * *

Day crept into evening, and once again, Taylor found himself alone in the field. With no desire to go anywhere near the others, and food out of the question, he wasn't in a particular hurry. But it was getting too dark to see, and there was a chill in the air that made the fire in the distance seem more appealing by the minute. Resigned, he picked his way back to the path through the fields, and back to the tool shed.

The other children had already finished dinner by this time. To Taylor's dismay, Dover's gang were the only ones left around the fire -- the others had already gone to bed. Scratch the fire idea. As if to punctuate the point, the boys huddled closer together around the fire. At a loss as to what to do now, Taylor's gaze drifted towards the kitchen. The door to the kitchen was still propped open, and he could hear the clank of dishes and running water. Now that he didn't have work to keep his mind off of his hunger and exhaustion, it was coming back to him full force. His stomach growled and an ache ripped across the top of his head so violently it left him reeling. How long was he not allowed to eat? He found himself drifting towards the kitchen door and the lingering scent of dinner.

A girl with extremely curly hair was standing closest to the door and was the first to see him. She glanced back to Monifa, who was demonstrating how to chop vegetables to Melody. Taylor's joy and relief at seeing her was quickly extinguished as Melody looked up, caught his eye, jumped as if she had suddenly been set on fire, and bolted from the room. Monifa looked up to the source of the commotion and made it to the door in three strides.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed, hands on her hips. "I heard all about what happened this morning. Sorry, but I can't let you have anything."

Taylor glanced down at the food stains on Monifa's apron and swayed; he was beginning to regret coming closer to the kitchen. The smells were making him feel like his head was filling up with cotton balls. "I-- I just," (it was hard to speak, not when it was getting so foggy) "I wanted to see... where did she go?"

Monifa tilted her head; there was an expression on her face he couldn't read. "She doesn't want to see you! Please, just go away," she sighed.

"But..." He couldn't remember what it was he was about to say next. The fog was swirling into spots of black. He felt like he was sinking into a river, a rushing river pulling at his ankles, trying to pull him under.

Monifa must have picked up on it, because he could see the blur of her arms as they dropped to her sides. "Hey, are you feelin' okay?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out -- Monifa tilted sideways away from him -- he felt the dull sensation of hitting the ground, but he was still falling, and finally everything was black.

* * *

Something cold stung his forehead. He could feel a drop of water crawling down around his eye, tickling his nose. His eyes blinked open -- he was staring up at a dark, exposed ceiling. Wires and pipes crisscrossed in every direction. His head tilted to the left, and he found himself looking into a shadowed face. Blue eyes stared back at him, momentarily frozen; then with a twirl of blonde hair, she was gone. He could hear her feet slapping against the floor as she ran out of sight. "W.. wait! Stop!" he croaked, trying to push himself up, but a fresh wave of nausea kept him down. The wet towel on his forehead fell over his face and he ripped it off. The footsteps pounded up a set of stairs somewhere and disappeared. Groaning, he looked around.

He was lying on a mattress on the floor of what appeared to be the basement. The mattress was situated in a corner in a small 'room' that had been cordoned off by shelving, stretching down the wall to the opposite corner and out of sight. Some other old furniture had been set nearby -- a dresser with a drawer missing, a lamp without a shade. A chair with most of the paint scratched off sat next to the mattress. The shelves were filled with unlabeled boxes and crates, the contents of which he could only guess. The space was poorly lit by bare light bulbs hanging from the ceiling at wide intervals, giving the room a very dim, yellow glow. The air was cold and musty, and he shivered.

Before he could begin to wonder how he had gotten here or why, he heard another set of footsteps pounding down the stairs. Curiosity mixed with a momentary rush of fear as the footsteps came closer, and he struggled to push himself off of the mattress. Monifa appeared around the shelves, holding a glass and something wrapped in a napkin.

"Don't get up," Monifa scolded. She sat down in the chair next to the mattress, setting the glass down on the floor. Taylor sunk back onto his elbows.

"What happened?" he asked, still feeling bleary.

"You passed out, that's what," Monifa said. She opened the napkin and started to break something apart. "Surprise, surprise." 

Feeling more than just a little foolish, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, despite the glare Monifa shot him. "Oh... sorry..."

"I didn't bring you down here if that's what you're thinking, Jareth did. Only because I threatened to make him cook breakfast if he didn't." She held out a slice of something to him and he took it. It looked like bread, but it was stiff and crumbled in his hands, and had a sweet smell. He glanced back at her skeptically. "Eat it quick," she said. He didn't need to be told twice -- he popped the entire thing into his mouth figuring he'd work out the chewing thing later. "Don't worry -- I'm the only one who comes down here, he won't know," she said, as if she could hear the question on Taylor's mind. He swallowed and coughed, and she held out a glass of something white and bitter-smelling. He was halfway through drinking it when he realized it was milk. What kind of milk, he didn't really care to know. She passed him the napkin and watched him devour the rest of the cake.

"Thanks," Taylor said when he could catch his breath again. The ache in his head and stomach had dulled.

"Don't think I'm gonna do this every time you sleep in," Monifa sighed. "So go to bed and wake up with everyone else!" She got to her feet and pointed around the shelf. "There's a door that leads back outside, go out that way, don't go into the house or you're gonna get me into trouble."

Taylor pushed himself off the mattress and to his feet. "Right... thanks..."

Monifa rolled her eyes and shoved him towards the opposite corner. "Yeah, go! Go!"

Taylor dug in his heels. "Wait, Monifa? Right?"

She crossed her arms. "What?"

"Why is Melody avoiding me?"

There -- there was that expression again. He couldn't tell if she looked angry, or sad. "Look, don't ask about her," she said in a low voice. "It's just gonna get you both in trouble."

"Trouble? What do you mean? Is she okay?"

Monifa shook her head and began shoving at him again. "GO! I mean it! And don't tell anybody about the food if you know what's good for you!"

"Monifa--"

But she wouldn't hear another word of it. Before he could get anything else out of her, he was pushed up a flight of stairs and out into the night air, warmer in comparison to the basement. The doors slammed shut behind him, and he hobbled towards the dormitory with a sigh.

Melody... was she okay? What happened? He couldn't understand what could have happened to make her avoid him. Did the fight scare her? Monifa seemed to know something, and he was determined to find out somehow, someway.


	5. Chapter 5

As the days ticked by, Taylor found himself unwittingly getting to know the other children, bit by bit. To his dismay, he spent most of his time close to Dover's gang, and was picking up on their particular eccentricities.

The ruddy-haired boy, Kaelin, never seemed to leave Dover's side. He was a talker, and had an almost frustrating tendency to pick up on a single topic and carry it through the day. More often than not he was so busy awkwardly attempting to engage the boys around him that he made foolish mistakes, which Dover was constantly attempting to hide. He seemed confident only as long as Dover was around; as soon as Johann came around, he lost his composure. Kaelin always had a bruise somewhere, and Taylor did not see anyone else quite as persistently battered apart from himself. There was a wicked scar drawn down his chest, and Taylor could only guess as to how he got it.

Jareth was the workhorse of the bunch, and as such, rarely said or did much else. He was powerfully built, and he was not afraid to use it to muscle his way around. The only people he seemed to show much reverence were Dover and Johann, and whatever sense of chivalry he had towards the girls.

Kurt had more energy than everyone combined, and never seemed to burn out. Taylor supposed this was at least partly to blame for why he was built so thin and wiry. Unfortunately Kurt often channeled his energies into things that were more destructive than constructive, making him unexpectedly aggressive. He also did not seem to possess any sort of internal filter for his speech, and after several days, Taylor got used to tuning out his derogative outbursts. Everyone else seemed to do the same -- even Johann was too exasperated to deal with him. Kurt had an odd way of speaking that reminded Taylor of old cowboy holos.  

Ric -- short for Amalric, Taylor later learned -- was a brooding boy with poor posture and a cynical attitude. He always had hair over one eye, and only after bumping into him did Taylor realize he could not see out of that eye, anyway. Even without half his face hidden, he was difficult to read, and did not appear to care for anyone or anything.

Those four along with Dover were practically inseparable and given a wide berth by the rest of the children -- the two girls, the boy Hamid, and the two youngest boys. Since Taylor was wholly rejected from Dover's circle, he spent most of his time after work either alone, or speaking briefly with these outcast misfits.

The girls, Kanya and Alanis, could not be any more different. Kanya was coarse, brash, and tomboyish. She wore (backwards) a very tattered baseball cap that she swore she won off an arm-wrestling match with a thug in the city, and a pair of overalls with the pants ripped off almost to her knees. She refused to wear a shirt, swearing something about equality of sexes, though the boys never complained. Kanya was very headstrong and kept the others in line and, for the most part, safe from the wandering idiocy of Dover and his gang.

Alanis, on the other hand, was very quiet and spacey. She would often stop whatever she was doing and stare aimlessly for several minutes, eyes unfocused, before suddenly resuming her activity. She was very detail-oriented and meticulous, which meant she was often one of the last to finish working. Taylor later learned that the reason she was completely hairless was that she once had a nervous habit of pulling out her hair. Frustrated that his punishments had no effect on her behavior, Johann finally shaved all her hair off. She in turn had taken to pulling out her eyelashes and eyebrows, until she was completely bald. Despite her off-putting behavior and appearance, from Taylor's limited contact with her, she had a very sweet disposition. Taylor assumed this was why she was put in charge of watching the two youngest kids.

While most of the other children were in a range between 13 and 16, the two boys Tu and Lorel were about 7 and 9 respectively, and fairly recent additions. Like Kanya and Alanis, they were entirely different from each other. Tu was a high-spirited boy who was much more interested in playing than working, and a constant handful. He often spoke in a high-pitched, melodic language that no one but him understood. Unlike most of the children, who had a strand of numbers on their wrist typical to this part of the galaxy, Tu had a large brand on his back of a letter and number. Alanis explained in her detached way that this meant he was from a slave family, but this was the most anyone knew of him.

Lorel was a withdrawn and timid boy. Even for his young age, he had a delicate, feminine appearance and manner that encouraged constant teasing from the other boys. Though he clung to Alanis, Taylor guessed this was why he would often follow Kanya around, admiring her ability to mesh with the boys. Lorel spent most of his time working either outside with Alanis, or inside the house. Taylor tried unsuccessfully to pry information about what went on inside the house from Lorel; when questioned, Lorel would clam up and run to Alanis or Kanya.

Lastly was Hamid, who Taylor could not get much of an impression of. For the most part, he kept to himself and avoided everyone else. He did look anyone in the eye and was easily startled. He was largely ignored by Dover's gang, and Taylor believed this was because Hamid was so ground down he presented no particular target for their attention. He was always the first one awake and the first asleep, and as far as Taylor had seen, never did anything out of place. The only thing unusual that Taylor noticed was that Hamid would often mutter something to himself in another language. When Taylor asked what it was, Hamid had jumped and explained that it was a prayer, but nothing of what it meant. Perhaps not even Hamid remembered what it meant anymore.

Of the girls in the manor, Taylor saw very little apart from mealtimes. Monifa or Yve -- the girl with curly hair Taylor had met at the door -- would come around during the day to give out water, but both refused to talk for too long. He knew from others talking about her that the oldest girl, Nekane, worked with Melody, but she never left the house and he rarely saw her. Taylor saw little to nothing of Melody apart from inside the kitchen, and she could not be coaxed to leave it. Taylor found one way to pass the time and ignore the stress of this new environment was to think of her and how they might possibly meet again, though he always came up short on answers.

These were the people Taylor now found himself sharing his life with every moment of the day. They all had a particular connection that he did not understand, that he felt himself separated from. Every step closer to understanding and knowing them felt like one step further away from his old life; so, for the most part, he returned their apprehension and distrust. His thoughts constantly strayed back to home. He wondered where Cale was now, if Cale would find him soon. He did not want to settle in here, did not want to identify with or be a part of the community here. He wanted this to all just be a crazy story of a life that belonged to someone else.

* * *

So the days stretched, and the tension between them all stretched. They were in a waiting period that Kanya explained to him as the time before "setting" -- transferring the plants in the back to the fields Taylor spent most of his time tilling. Though the detailed procedure of setting was explained to Taylor many times, he did not understand or particularly care -- after all, he didn't know how long he would be here. Taylor's disinterest, and the other boys' impatience with repeating the same pointless maintenance on the fields waiting for rain, were wearing on everyone's nerves. It should have been no surprise that things finally reached a boiling point a couple days before setting.

With little left to do in the fields, Taylor was finding himself feeling superfluous, and searched for any excuse to avoid work. On his way back from the outhouse, he paused by the washbasin to gaze down into the murky water. The wound on his cheek had long since scabbed over, and he picked thoughtlessly at it as he stared at his reflection. He was so absorbed in his listless thoughts about the day that he did not notice anyone approaching until his reflection suddenly broke in a torrent of ripples.

Taylor looked up to see Dover splash water on his face. Dover shook the water out of his eyes, and, seeing that he had caught Taylor's attention, cracked a grin. By now, Taylor knew not to trust any of Dover's facial expressions, and he knew there was nothing friendly about this favorite expression of his. What's more, Dover was alone, which was unusual in and of itself.

"Hey Toots', whatcha doin'?" Dover greeted. "Admiring your reflection? Not that there is much to admire."

Taylor frowned. "Fuck off, Dover," he said, and moved to walk past Dover.

Dover jumped in front of Taylor, blocking him. "Wait wait, what's the hurry? Let's talk." Taylor tried to get around him, but Dover immediately cut him off.

"I don't want to talk," Taylor snapped, but gave up on the attempt to get away. He crossed his arms and decided to wait for an opening.

"Why? You got something better to do?" Dover held his arm out to the basin and leaned against it. Though the pose was casual and typical for Dover, Taylor sensed there was something off about him. He was shivering, and his speech was agitated. Taylor noticed a fresh purple shadow just under the collar of Dover's shirt. "Waiting for a call from Mommy and Daddy?"

"No," Taylor replied, and for good measure, "they died. On Earth."

"Oh? Harsh. Well, you're better off without 'em."

Taylor glowered. "Why, what about yours?"

Dover shifted and leaned his whole back against the basin. "Shit, I don't know, and I don't care. They don't care about me. Dear ol' Momma died on Earth and Christ only knows where my old man is, that stupid huncher."

"Really. Fascinating," Taylor droned, and moved to leave again. Dover stuck out a foot to block him.

"So I heard you got people lookin' for you. If they're not your parents, then who are they?" Dover asked.

Taylor rolled his eyes. "What, do you really give a shit?"

Dover grinned. "No, not really." Dover gestured at the numbers on Taylor's wrist, which Taylor quickly pressed against his leg. "So what, have some bad debts? Get on the wrong side of a slum lord?"

Seeing he was not going to escape having this conversation, Taylor sighed and leaned against the wall beside the basin. "No, just... wrong place at the wrong time."

Dover turned his own wrist up to the light and gazed down at the numbers. They were slightly stretched and faded. "Me, I was 7 when my old man shoved a rosary in my hand and traded me. I had six brothers and sisters, and four of us made it off Earth -- I guess the strain was too much for him to handle, huh?" He gave a mirthless chuckle, and Taylor shifted uneasily. _Why is he telling me this?_ he thought. Dover rattled on without waiting for an answer. "I wonder if the rosary made him feel better? How much do you think he got for me? What did he tell my little sister?" He balled his hand into a fist and looked up to Taylor. Taylor startled, but didn't move. "So do you really think they want you back? What if they're the reason you're here?" Dover pushed away from the basin and closed the distance between them in two steps. "What makes you think that you're better than us, that you deserve to get out of here? I've been here for nine _fucking_ years. Where's _my_ ticket out?"

Taylor could not think of anything to say. Normally he would be confident of his ability to take on a one-on-one confrontation, but there was a frenetic energy in Dover that terrified him. He stayed frozen on the spot.

Dover's eyes darted down to the cord around Taylor's neck, and the pendant hanging from the end. Taylor usually kept the necklace hidden under his shirt, but boredom led him to pull it out and toy with it, and he had forgotten to keep it hidden. Dover seized the pendant, wrenching Taylor forward by the neck. "What's this?" He turned the pendant around in his hand, making a vain attempt to read the scratched-out writing. He chuckled. "What, you've got some kind of worthless trinket too? Well ain't that a riot!" he crowed.

Taylor threw his head back, ripping the pendant out of Dover's hand and pushing him back. "Get away from me!" he snapped, and lunged for the only opening, away from the corner and the washbasin.

Dover jumped in the way and slammed Taylor back against the wall. "No, let me see!" He grabbed hold of the cord and tried to tug it over Taylor's head. Taylor tried to push Dover off, and for a moment the two wrestled before Dover slammed one arm against Taylor's neck and ripped the necklace up and off with the other. Startled by the sudden loss of air, Taylor could only gasp for breath as Dover leapt back, holding up the necklace triumphantly. "I think I'll get rid of this for you!" he said, then ran past Taylor and around the corner.

Fear and rage shot through Taylor like a jolt. Without taking a moment to catch his breath, he tore after Dover. He rounded the corner just in time to see Dover running towards the barn. For a moment he did not understand where Dover was going, then was broad-sided by a realization -- Dover was heading for the furnace in the back of the barn. "Dover! Stop!" he yelled, sprinting towards the barn. Out of the corner of his eye he could see blurred figures -- the commotion was not going unnoticed.

Dover had stopped in front of the back door. It was chained shut, and he had started ripping off the chains by the time Taylor caught up. Dover spun around.

This time Taylor didn't wait for Dover to speak. Before he even had a chance to slow down, he swung with all his might and heard the dull smack of his fist as it struck Dover in the eye. Dover fell backwards in surprise and pain, dropping the necklace. Taylor froze, shocked and shaking, his knuckles stinging. For a moment he just watched Dover clutch his eye and curse. He reached down and snatched the necklace from the dirt and shoved it into his pocket just as Dover's gang ran up. Exhilarated and terrified, he took off in the opposite direction, shoving Kurt and Kaelin aside as he made a dash for the fields.

Kaelin was the first to reach Dover, still sitting in the dirt. "Are you okay?!" Kaelin asked, kneeling and pulling Dover's hand away from his face. His eyelid was already swollen shut.

Kurt and Ric burst out laughing. Dover looked up at them, blinking out of his good eye, and chuckled. "Kitty's got a nasty scratch," he said, leaning back against the dirt.

Jareth stared stoically after Taylor, who had started trying to climb the windmill. "You want to go after him?" he growled.

Dover sighed and pushed himself to his feet. "Nah, leave it alone -- let him think he's won." He gingerly touched his swollen eye. "We can't do anything about it now, anyway." He titled his head pointedly towards Johann's office. "You guys go ahead, I'm gonna go get some ice."

Grumbling, the others started to drift back towards the fields. Kaelin lagged behind, and Dover reached out to stop him. "Hold up," he said. Kaelin turned around, scowling.

"What? Change your mind?" Kaelin whispered, clenching his fists.

Dover grinned. "Hold on, tiger, you'll get your shot. I just wanted to... see how you're doing."

Kaelin's expression slackened for a moment, hand instinctively wandering to a series of small bruises peeking out from under the sleeve of his jacket. His eyes flickered to the deep shadow under Dover's collar, and his face resettled into a stubborn grimace. "I'm fine!" he snapped, and stormed away.

Dover watched him go and shook his head. _Really made a mess of things this time_ , he thought, glancing over at the windmill, where Taylor had managed to perch up on a secondary rung. _Go ahead and run, but there's nowhere to go._ With a sigh he turned towards the kitchen, and began thinking up excuses.

* * *

Taylor watched the others down in the field below, a chill breeze ruffling his hair. He looked up to the sky, where dense, gray clouds were moving down towards the valley from the mountains. He knew he could not stay up on the windmill forever -- did not even know what strength had possessed him to climb it -- and when he felt he had finally calmed down and Dover's gang wouldn't come after him, he climbed back down.

Night came early under the overcast sky, and a disquieting feeling grew as he sat on the kitchen steps to eat dinner. Johann must have been optimistic about the chances of rain, because there were small cubes of meat mixed in with his usual portion of rice. Though news of the fight between him and Dover had spread quickly, the children must have known better than to blab about it to Johann. This did not make Taylor feel any better about it. Dover's gang kept shooting him looks that were far from friendly, and despite his constant hunger, he felt he could not stomach his food.

As the children drifted to bed, Taylor found himself sitting nervously on the steps to the dorm. It was getting late, and Dover's gang was nowhere to be seen. Taylor watched as the lights switched off first inside the dorm, then in the house. He was sitting in almost complete darkness, except for a dim light above the door that Kanya had left on after insisting he come inside. Too nervous to even pretend to go to sleep, he found himself gazing into the darkness beyond his feet.

There was a shuffle of feet against dirt, and Taylor stiffened. From out of the shadows Dover's gang emerged, circling around him before he had a chance to react. Taylor instinctively pushed himself back.

Dover stepped towards the light. The dim lighting made his black eye look like a dark void in his face. He grinned, and Taylor felt his stomach churn. _What are they doing?_ he wondered half out of panic. "Hey, twerp -- like my new face?" Dover said.

Taylor's eyes darted around the circle, searching for an opening. He felt his energy draining, and he'd settle just for getting the hell away. "You... you know what he said," he stammered, surprised to hear the fear in his voice. "You can't touch me, he'll know it was you."

Dover laughed. "Oh yeah? You gonna squeal on me? You really think he'll believe you?"

Taylor swallowed hard. He knew his word was as good as mud to Johann, who relished any excuse to knock him down a peg. There was no running for help -- there was no one who would risk it, especially not after how he'd been treating everyone. The circle tightened, and Taylor jumped to his feet. "What do you want from me? Do you want me to say I'm sorry? 'Cause I'm not."

There was a ripple of laughter amongst the boys. "I don't give a shit if you're sorry or not," Dover snorted. "This isn't about you and me. See, I think you've gotten the wrong idea about how things work around here." Dover paced back and forth. "You think you've still got rights, that you can sleep whenever you want, eat whenever you want, do whatever you want. You're not a part of this world. This is just some kind of minor set-back for you." Taylor watched him pace and considered retreating back inside, but a mixture of pride and fear kept him rooted to the spot. The others were silent as Dover drove on. "Well I've got a news flash for you: none of that exists anymore. You have no rights, no power. There is nothing that belongs to you anymore. You're somebody else's piece of shit."

Taylor felt a surge of hatred well up amidst the fear. "I'll never be like you. You're pathetic," he spat. "You're all pathetic, licking that man's feet like dogs." He saw the others stir and grumble over this and he allowed himself to feel a bit of satisfaction.

Dover's expression darkened. "You're already one of us, you just don't know it yet. Do you really think you're so different from us? You think I haven't seen a dozen just like you?" He stepped closer, close enough that Taylor could see the blotches of discoloration around his eye. "Sooner or later, he'll break you. The harder you fight, the harder you'll fall. If you can't learn to take the pain, you die. _That_ is the way things work." Dover leaned back, and Taylor realized he had been holding his breath. "But don't worry, we're here to teach you. Right, guys?" He glanced over his shoulder and the other boys cackled.

Taylor felt his confidence starting to drain. He wasn't eager for a repeat of his first day -- better to try and make a run for it. Inside was a dead end, so the only option was to try and break out of the circle and bolt. His eyes darted to Kaelin, the shortest and frailest of the bunch, standing at the edge of the circle. He leapt for the space between Kaelin and the side of the building.

Kaelin howled in surprise as Taylor used the momentum of the jump to push his way past. But the shock of the move wore off fast, and Taylor found himself almost pulled to the ground as Kaelin grabbed onto the edge of Taylor's shirt to break his fall. Taylor tried desperately to rip his shirt away, but by now the rest of the group had recovered. He felt Jareth grab his shoulder and half throw, half push him back towards the others. Taylor hit the ground, the coarse gravel skinning his elbows. He scrambled back to his feet, but the circle had reformed as fast as it had broken. The boys had laughed at his foiled escape attempt, and now they were starting to catcall at him as he tried to figure out what to do.

"Come on, is that the best you got?" Dover laughed.

"We're just tryin' to help ya out," Kurt jeered.

Jareth spit at the dirt and cracked his knuckles.

Taylor turned his attention to Ric. Thinking he would take advantage of Ric's disability, he lunged towards his blind spot, swinging for Ric's open eye at the same time. This was a mistake; Taylor had underestimated Ric's agility and experience with his own limitations. Ric dodged the swing and turned Taylor's leap against him, pushing him into the dirt. He stomped on Taylor's back, knocking the breath out of him. Taylor doubled up, and Jareth stepped in, kicking him away from Ric and back towards the steps.

Embarrassed and in pain, Taylor realized that this was going exactly the way they intended. They weren't looking to fight. They just wanted to humiliate and hurt him. He refused to admit it was working. Already he was feeling the familiar sickening sensation of being trapped. His elbows stung and his back and chest ached, but nothing hurt as much as the realization that he was being toyed with. He resisted the numbing in his arms and legs, threatening to make him freeze. _No! I can't let this happen again_ , he thought desperately. No longer as concerned with getting away as escaping his own sinking emotions, he charged at Dover.

The circle collapsed. Before he could even reach Dover, he was struck on every side, so fast he didn't get a chance to feel any of the blows. Before he knew it he was pinned to the ground by a rain of kicks and punches. He instinctively tried to curl up and protect himself, but he felt strong hands pull his arms back and feet kick his legs away to expose his stomach. Not being able to defend himself only made him panic more, and he struck out blindly at his assailants. Fighting only encouraged a more violent rebuff, until the pain blended together in an overwhelming wave, and he could taste blood where it streamed out of his nose and cut lip. Trying to block the blows or defend himself lead to him being pinned or wrestled into a more vulnerable position. Confused and panicked, he screamed.

Suddenly the blows stopped. Taylor realized another voice was shouting, a girl's voice. "Stop! Stop it!" There were muttered oaths and curses, and the boys dispersed as quickly as they had appeared. Stunned, Taylor wheezed and spluttered, rolling over to cough up blood in the dirt. He felt something touch his back and he flinched, throwing himself back against the wall. His eyes locked with the wide, frightened eyes of the girl in front of him.

It was Melody. She was crouched in front of him, looking both concerned and horrified. "Tai? Tai, it's me," she whispered.

Fear and relief boiled together into confusion inside his head. He realized he was shaking, as if he were still being hit. For a moment he could not place what he was seeing. "M-Melody? What..." He doubled over, coughing. She flinched at the sound, but didn't move. "What are you doing here?"

She looked around nervously. "I... I was watching from my window," she said, and glanced back towards the house at a window on the second floor towards the front of the house. "And I..." Her soft voice trailed off.

Taylor struggled to push himself to his feet, willing himself to ignore the lingering pain and fear. His vision was blurred, and as he rubbed his eyes to clear them, he realized he had been crying. "No, you... you gotta go back inside... what if they... what if _he_...?"

At this a faint smile touched Melody's lips. "Oh... it's okay. He's a really heavy sleeper."

Taylor shook his head and held onto her shoulders. He was so dizzy he could barely stand, but he still tried to push her weakly back towards the house. "No... Melody, please just..." Finally his strength gave out, and he fell to his knees.

Melody kneeled beside him, holding him up. Something cold hit her shoulder and she startled. Another hit her arm, and as dark splotches began to appear on the ground, she realized it was raining. For a moment the two sat in the dirt as the rain fell, soaking Taylor's shirt and blurring the stains of blood. Taylor barely felt the slap of the raindrops; he was fading in and out of consciousness. Through the noise of the raindrops hitting the metal roof of the dorm, he heard the faint strain of Melody humming. He could feel her shivering under his hands. The warmth of her skin and the lulling beauty of the unfamiliar tune chased away the lingering fear. He felt himself fading into her arms as the rain fell, and the light above the steps winked out.


	6. Chapter 6

Taylor woke the next morning lying on his side, staring at the wall of the dorm. He tried to get up, and a spasm of pain ripped through his stomach. For a moment he could remember nothing of how he got here, or why everything hurt. The last thing he remembered was being outside in the dark... and then... oh, right. _Dover, that huncher_ , he thought bitterly as he clutched his stomach. He had been in so much pain he barely remembered going to bed. _Melody must have helped me... I hope she is okay._

He heard the slam of the screen door as one of the children stepped outside. The air had the moist, heavy feeling of dawn, and he knew it was time to get up. It was the first time he had managed to wake up on his own without being literally kicked out of bed; the irony of the situation was not lost on him. With excruciating effort, he forced himself to stretch his limbs and push himself off the mat. He staggered towards the door and out into the morning air.

The rain had drenched everything, soaking the wood siding of the buildings. He stepped down from the door and felt mud squish under his bare feet. The sun was just starting to rise under a heavy layer of dark clouds on the horizon. He shivered, and realized his shirt was gone. For a second he was confused, then remembered the rain soaking into his shirt the night before. _I... must have taken it off, I guess._ He could clearly see every bruise and welt on his chest and arms, and he winced. Crossing his arms, he stepped around the building to the back, where the other children were gathering for breakfast.

The first thing he noticed was his shirt hanging from a clothesline strung between the side of the dorm and the side of the barn, along with some blankets and towels. There was a pile of dirty laundry sitting in the mud next to the washbasin, overflowing with water and suds. Alanis was almost completely soaked, attempting to scrub her way through the pile of laundry. She glanced at him, making no mention of his injuries as she continued working. Kanya pushed past him with an armful of blankets, which she dumped unceremoniously in the basin, splashing Alanis with a fresh coating of bubbles.

Kanya leaned on her elbow against the basin, watching Alanis scrub. "Tell me again why we're doing laundry _now_? I mean, what's the point? What if it rains again?" Alanis only shrugged. Kanya glanced back at Taylor as if noticing him for the first time. Her eyes flickered up and down as she took in the deep purple splotches that littered his arms and chest. Her face split into a sly grin. "Arf, arf," she barked at him.

He felt his cheeks flush, and he turned away. _Well, not like I was expecting anyone to feel sorry for me. They must have heard what was going on_ , he thought, but he couldn't shake the feeling of embarrassment and hurt. He walked past them to the clothesline. His shirt was still too wet to wear, and he sighed.

At that moment something warm and wet splashed onto the top of his head and trickled down into his eyes. He jumped in alarm and tried to scrub the snot-like substance out of his eyes. He'd know that texture anywhere -- it was the oatmeal they had for breakfast every morning. Taylor spun on his heel to find the culprit: Dover, holding an empty bowl. He shoved the bowl towards Taylor. His face was red from the effort of trying not to laugh.

"Here, brought you breakfast," he snorted. Taylor swiped the bowl and resisted the urge to beat Dover over the head with it. "Love the new look, by the way." At this Dover really did burst out laughing, and he kept laughing all the way back to where his friends sat watching.

Taylor did not think he could possibly feel more miserable. He stalked back to the washbasin, pushing past a flustered Alanis and an amused Kanya to dunk his head in the soapy water.

* * *

Despite the events of the night before, there was an air of excitement and anxiety as the children scrambled to prepare for the setting. Taylor understood this meant transferring the thousands of crowded plants in the back out to the front, and that this had to be done very delicately to avoid damaging the roots. The children split up into their usual two teams to prepare the fields and the plants for the move. Taylor found himself quickly forgetting the aches and pains of his injuries in an attempt just to focus and keep up with where he needed to be and what he needed to do. He had a deep-seated suspicion that the others had no desire to make the experience easy on him, either. Dover was constantly trying to push him over or toe dirt into the holes he was digging.

Johann came out of the house later in the morning to supervise the work. Taylor had prepared himself for any number of reactions to his appearance. He wasn't altogether surprised when Johann took one look at him, frowned, smirked, and then immediately berated him for digging his holes too shallow.

The work stretched late into the night and carried over into the next day, and the pace only escalated as they raced to move the rest of the plants before the soil dried completely. They were all muddy and exhausted, and Taylor only found himself feeling more lost and confused. Nothing he did seemed to go right; he was being screamed and snapped at from all sides. Fed up with the noise and the strain, he finally retreated to the steps of the dorm with a glass of water.

Watching the others run back and forth, he was just starting to relax a bit when a shadow fell over him, and he internally groaned. He looked up into the irritated, scowling face of Johann.

"What are you doing?" Johann snarled.

Taylor was worn out and frustrated. He strained to think of what Johann would want to hear. His thoughts jammed on the way to his mouth, and his brain defaulted to the sort of sarcasm he used with Cale when he was tired and the obvious was being stated. "Sitting," he replied.

"I can see _that_ ," Johann snapped. "Why aren't you _working_?"

Taylor was still trying to think of what it was he was supposed to say when speaking to Johann, but he was sifting through a train-wreck trying to find scraps in the smoke. "Because I can't _move_ anymore and I want to sit _down_ ," he found himself saying in a passable imitation of Johann's scratchy voice.

Johann's eyebrows curved so far down into his eyes that Taylor thought they might pop out. "Don't take that tone with me, boy," he growled. "Either you get up right now, or--"

"What, you hit me?" Taylor interrupted. He downed the rest of the water and set the glass aside. "Sure, go ahead. I don't think I have enough bruises yet."

Taylor heard Johann made a sound like a kettle boiling, and he leaned back just in time for Johann's fist to go swinging past his nose. Missing just made Johann more livid. Too tired to respond as quickly a second time, Taylor let Johann grab the collar of his shirt and pull him off the step. "Listen to me, you little shit! Get back to work right now!" Johann bellowed, shaking Taylor back and forth. Taylor felt himself grow slightly nauseous. He let go of Taylor's shirt and pushed him stumbling away from the dorm. "Go on, get!"

"Alright, alright, I'm getting, _sir_ ," he added with obvious spite. He started to jog back to the fields and heard the crash of broken glass as it struck the side of the barn inches from where he had just been.

* * *

 Despite complete physical and mental exhaustion, the setting was starting to wind down as the sun dipped below the horizon. Almost all the plants had made the transition to the front fields, and were getting some last minute attention from Alanis and Kanya to make sure nothing was out of place. The rest of the children had collapsed by the fire, beat but elated at their success. Monifa, Yve, Melody, and even Nekane had emerged from the kitchen to celebrate. They had started to sing, harmonizing poorly but enjoying themselves all the same.

Taylor and Melody sat on the kitchen steps, watching the others. Taylor wondered how they could still have the energy to speak, much less sing. He felt the smallest glimmer of appreciation for the children and what they were able to accomplish, and the slightest bit of shame for his inability to understand or match them. It was all worth it to be sitting next to Melody again, without anyone paying the slightest bit of attention. She smiled and giggled at a joke about Kaelin's off-key singing that carried over from the circle around the fire, and he felt a flutter in his chest that he didn't think had anything to do with his exhaustion.

"Melody?" Taylor said.

"Hmm?" She turned to look at him, still smiling.

He felt his cheeks burn, and he looked away. "I, uh... I was just wondering how you've been. Are you okay?"

She hesitated, and nodded. "Are you... okay?" she asked in return, pointing to the bruises on his arm.

He smiled sheepishly, stretching his arms and hearing his elbows pop. "Uh... been better, I guess." She chuckled. His smile faded; he hated to bring it up, but... he had to know. "So... why were you avoiding me?"

Her face fell, and she turned her head away. She didn't say anything.

Taylor leaned forward, trying to see her face. "Melody...?"

"Please don't ask me, Tai," she said in a small voice. "I... I wanted to see you, but..."

"But what?" He placed a hand on her shoulder, and she jumped as if she had been stung. He gazed at the back of her head in confusion as she turned completely away from him. "If something happened... please, tell me..."

At that moment he heard footsteps echoing across the tile behind him. He looked over his shoulder to see Johann walk into the kitchen. Johann searched around the kitchen, grumbling to himself. As he turned to leave, his eyes darted over to the door and met Taylor's for an instant. Johann froze like he had hit a brick wall, and Taylor felt a chill shoot up his spine. Johann changed course and stomped towards the door. _Oh, shit_.

Melody saw who was coming and sprang like a rabbit from the steps. She ran to Nekane, and the interruption startled everyone out of their celebration. Taylor pushed himself off the steps and took a step backwards as Johann stopped right in front of him.

Johann swayed and blinked at Taylor. "You... you think you're real smart, donchu?" he said, voice slurring. He was standing close enough that Taylor could smell a pungent odor on Johann's breath that he couldn't place.

"Sorry?" Taylor replied, painfully aware of all the eyes boring holes into the back of his head.

Johann nodded but didn't seem to be listening. "Yeah... I know your type... lash out, talk back... but you'd never do a thing yourself, would you?"

Taylor gazed back quizzically. _What's he driving at...?_

"Don't give me that look, you understand what I'm saying," Johann snorted. He grinned, and Taylor felt himself grow uneasy. "Tell me, boy, what do you really think about me?" Taylor frowned, but Johann just chuckled. "Go on, go ahead, say whatever you want."

Taylor stared at Johann for a moment, trying to figure out was going on. _Is he messing with me?_ _Well, fuck him -- if he wants it, he's got it._ "Alright, sure... I think you're a slimy, sick perv who buys children because you don't have the balls to order around someone bigger than you," Taylor said. He felt himself growing more bitter and angry as he spoke, and he kicked the dirt. "You use us to boost your ego and feel better about yourself when really you are just an old, pathetic fucker trying to relive the glory days through this shithole. I hate it here, and I hate you."

There was a tense silence. Johann did not look in any way bothered by what Taylor had said; if anything, he just smiled wider at the hatred and frustration on Taylor's face. "Hate me as much as you want, but it's not going to change a thing," he said, voice slower and clearer than it had been. "Hate this place, hate the world, hate yourself. Curse and scream till your lungs give out. But it won't change what you are." Johann pointed at Taylor's face. "You're a slave, and I own you now. You are worthless outside of what value _I_ see in you. Don't think that I bought you because you are special in any way. You are a lazy, weak, smartass little shit."

"Well then excuse me, _sir_ ," Taylor bit out. "Why _did_ you buy me?"

Johann frowned, nose crinkling. "Weakness is something that can be fixed, in time," he said. "No, the reason I bought you is because I knew that, beyond your lip, there is nothing. You will never try to be more than what you are now." Johann stepped closer, so close Taylor could hear Johann's breath hiss out of his nose. His voice dropped so only the two of them could hear. "I don't care how long it takes or what it takes. You can come at me with whatever you want, but I will tear you down until you realize what you are." Johann straightened up. "So... what is it that you should say to me?"

Taylor stood fuming, too incensed to speak. He hated, didn't dare to admit that Johann might be right. No matter what he felt, his situation was not going to change. As angry as he was, he knew he could not touch Johann, could not change what Johann was to him, whether he wanted to admit it or not. For a long moment he gazed furiously back into Johann's eyes, then slowly looked away. Just looking away felt as painful as a dozen blows. " _Sir_ ," he muttered.

"What is that? I didn't hear you."

Taylor shook with suppressed rage and shame. "Sir!" he repeated.

Out of the corner of his eye, Taylor could see Johann fold his arms. "You're going to have to do better than _that_."

Taylor felt as if he were being ripped apart from the inside. He clenched and unclenched his fists, and his gaze sunk lower, until he was staring at Johann's feet. He knew what he was supposed to say, had always known, heard it spoken with varying degrees of reverence every day. The effort to speak, to not speak, was making him sick. "... Master," he bit out at last.

Even if he could not see it, Taylor could hear the satisfaction in Johann's voice. "Well, it's a start." Taylor felt Johann clap him on the shoulder. He wanted to rip Johann's hand away, or throw up and hide under the porch. Johann pushed him away before he had time to decide on one or the other. "Alright, there's nothin' to stare at!" Johann's voice boomed over his shoulder. "Get to bed! You all got a long day tomorrow!" The children all scrambled out of their places. "You four, back in the house!" He gestured at the four girls, and they hurried past Taylor and Johann into the house. Taylor felt Melody's hand brush his as she walked past, and Taylor felt the anger dissipate. Johann shot him one last look before following the girls into the house and slamming the door.

As Taylor passed Dover on the way to the dorm, Dover shot him a smirk. Taylor did not even have the energy to throw something back; he kept walking, ignoring the stares and whispers of the others. He curled up on his mat and tried to forget about what had just happened... but he knew that something had changed, that he had lost something he was not going to get back. Not for the first time, he found himself staring at the numbers on his wrist and wondering what would happen next, what would become of him -- and what he would become.


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning, Taylor watched as Johann and Corinne climbed into the old truck and lumbered away down the road towards the city. Johann had left Dover in charge, who did not look particularly surprised or privileged at the task -- these business trips, Taylor understood, were a common affair. The society of the planet being very aristocratic, the couple often had to make appearances at functions and galas and conferences, if only to give off the image of luxury and importance. It all meant very little to Taylor, except that he might finally have some time away from the stern and condescending eye of Johann. He wasn't sure if it was trust in the children, or trust in his own tyrannical command that lead Johann to believe business would continue without him. To Taylor's disappointment, it _was_ largely business as usual with the master gone, and Dover was only too gleeful to fill in the role.

Without anyone to cook for or wait on, the girls of the manor took the opportunity to get a breath of fresh air and mingle with the other children. To Taylor's delight, this meant that he got to spend most of the day with Melody by his side. The work that had seemed boring and trivial was now something new and interesting to show her. Melody even tried a hand at it herself, though Taylor admitted that not even he was quite as bad. She didn't mind, though; just being outside in the sunshine and the dirt gave her a glow of happiness he had never seen. He thought he could just watch her smile forever.

The sun was starting to sink towards the horizon when Melody pulled Taylor away from the fields. Work was winding down for the day, and the children were each left to their own devices. Melody insisted on showing Taylor something, and with Monifa's O.K., he followed her past the fields, towards the canyons. Eventually Taylor found himself at a copse of old, gnarled trees.

"I can see them from my window," Melody explained. "I wanted to see them up close."

Taylor walked around the largest, most impressive tree. The branches were as wide around as his chest, and with some effort, he was able to scramble up the roots and onto the closest branch. A cool breeze whistled through the leaves and tousled his short, unkempt hair. From up here he could see everything: the fields stretching back towards the farm, the canyons encircling the valley, the mountains towering in the distance, and the jagged outlines of the city. It was a clear day, and the sunset made a perfect gradient of oranges and reds stretching up to the stars above them.

"Melody, you gotta come up here!" he called down to her. She hesitated, and he held his hand out to help pull her up onto the branch next to him. Her apprehension melted away as she looked around. Taylor grinned at the look of awe on her face. "Great, isn't it? Who knew this dump had a bright side."

She giggled and wrapped her arm around the trunk of the tree. "Do you really like it?" she asked.

Taylor leaned on his knee. "Yeah, of course! It's beautiful." He stared at her, at the glow of the sunset on her face and shoulders. "Though you're much more beautiful," he added, and felt his cheeks burn.

She laughed, and let out a long, contented sigh. "Being up here makes me feel free, somehow," she said in a small voice. "Did they have anything like this where you came from?"

Taylor grinned nervously. "Uh, well... not really... the planet I come from is very polluted... only once in a while would the skies clear up, and it was always really special." He sighed. "I think on Earth, there might have been something like this, but I don't remember too well."

Melody stared off thoughtfully into the sunset. "Earth... do you think... do you think there were... people like _him_ there...?" She shuddered, and Taylor wasn't sure if it was from the breeze, or some colder thought.

Taylor frowned and pushed himself, carefully, closer to her. "Well... I don't know... maybe..." At the look of sadness on her face, he quickly added, "but I know things were better there, they were definitely better."

She gave a weak smile, gazing down at her toes in front of her. "Do you think that... when we die... we go to wherever Earth is, now?"

He stared at her, and slowly wrapped his arm around her shoulder. She flinched, but gradually relaxed beside him. "We're not going to die," he said quietly. "I promise... we're going to get out of here, someday."

She rested her head against his shoulder. "And I can go back with you, to your home?"

He let his cheek rest lightly against the top of her head. The sun had disappeared beyond the canyons, and the glow was gently fading. "Yeah... yeah, of course."

For a moment they sat in silence, listening to the whistle of the wind, and the far-off echo of the children's voices. When Melody spoke again, it was so quiet Taylor could barely hear it. "Tai?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you love me?"

Taylor pulled his head up in surprise, glancing down at Melody's face. She was staring off into the sunset, eyes sparkling with tears. He could feel her shiver under his arm. At first, he wasn't sure how to respond. It wasn't something he ever really thought about. All he knew was that he had never felt the way he did about Melody as anyone else; had never felt so safe, so happy. Was that what love was? Did he love her? There was something both frightening and exhilarating about the thought. He felt like his heart might beat out of his chest. "... yeah, I... I do. Love you, I mean."

Melody sniffed and buried her face into his side. "You don't hurt people you love... do you?"

Taylor stared down at the top of her head in confusion. Just seeing her in pain felt like being ripped apart. "No... I... I would never hurt you, Melody," he said quietly. At this she began to sob, and he wrapped his arms around her. He couldn't understand why she was so sad. "Please don't cry," he whispered, but she just cried harder. Hearing her cry struck a blow to the wall he had built up to hold back everything, all the events of the past few weeks. Without meaning to, without even realizing it, he found tears streaming down his face as he listened to her cry, and the glow of sunset faded into night.

* * *

The memory of that day spent with Melody carried Taylor through the next several days. He felt he could forget about everything just remembering her smile, and he would think back on it at slow points of the day. Dover looked both confused and unhappy about this change in attitude, and went out of his way to throw out insults and jabs, but Taylor's euphoria was like a shield it all bounced off of.

Eventually, Taylor realized he was not the only one . He was starting to notice that Ric and Kanya spent a lot of time together, and even disappeared once in a while. When Taylor asked about it, Dover had just snickered at him.

"What are you, stupid?" Dover had sneered. "What do you _think_ they're doing?"

Taylor had a vague idea what it was. When he and Cale had started going through puberty, their flustered alien foster-father had no idea how to manage or explain it to them. He had eventually settled it the way he always did when it came to their education -- with books. He tracked down everything from human biology textholos to romance novels, and left the two boys to figure it out on their own. Tek had awkwardly explained that sex was a special thing that human couples did when they were older and in love, but despite all the books, Taylor did not feel he understood it much better than he ever did. He certainly hadn't expected to run into it here. Ric and Kanya were very intent on keeping it secret, so Taylor was sure it was not something the children were supposed to be doing. Vaguely, Taylor wondered if it was something that he and Melody would do one day -- the thought made him both excited and nauseous. Just seeing her was enough to make him dizzy with giddiness.

But Melody had started to avoid him again, and the familiar fears, insecurities and suspicions were sneaking back up on him. He was restless, and he found himself giving in to the provocations of Dover and Johann, replacing old bruises with new ones. All he could think of was Melody's tears, and more than ever, he was convinced there was something horribly wrong.

* * *

It was an afternoon several days after Johann and Corinne returned from their trip when he found out the truth. Taylor was hovering around the house, hoping to catch a glimpse of Melody. Every time Johann caught Taylor doing this, he would beat him away -- but Taylor found himself drawn back, hoping.

For the most part Dover had let this behavior slide, content to let Johann handle it. But this was the fifth time he had seen Taylor wandering around the porch this day alone, and his patience was wearing out. Teasing Taylor was fun, but now it seemed like the boy was never going to quit unless he knew the truth. Dover smirked; here was a chance to really strike a blow at the new kid, deep at the heart of what he cherished most. He made his way over to where Taylor was standing by the drawing room window, sneaking glances inside.

"Hey Taylor," Dover called. Taylor whipped around, startled. His expression hardened to one of extreme distaste on catching sight of Dover. "Didn't know you were such a Peeping Tom."

Taylor scowled. "What do you want?"

Dover stopped a few feet from Taylor, hands in his pockets, playing casual. "Oh, nothin'. Couldn't help noticing you're over here. Again."

Taylor tilted his head. "What's it to you? Gonna tell on me? Bet you'd get a kick out of that."

Dover feigned a hurt expression. "Now, why would I do that? You know I'm just looking after ya."

Taylor gave a snort of disbelief and turned away, heading towards the dorms.

Dover waited until Taylor had passed him before calling out: "She's avoiding you again, isn't she?"

This had exactly the effect he wanted. He heard Taylor's steps shuffle to a halt behind him, then turn around and head back towards him. Dover stood waiting as Taylor came back into view, defeat giving in to his curiosity. Taylor narrowed his eyes, and Dover smirked wider. "You know something," Taylor said -- more a statement than a question.

"Yeah, and what's it to _you_?" Dover shot back.

Taylor glowered at him for a moment, then looked away again. "Forget it -- you don't know anything. You're just trying to fuck with me."

Dover raised a brow. "Oh yeah? You're calling _me_ stupid? You think I don't know _exactly_ what's going on in there? Who do you think I am?"

Taylor snapped his head back, glaring. "So? What is it?"

Dover snickered, but said nothing. Taylor felt his frustration and desperation reaching a boiling point, and without thinking, he seized Dover by the collar and swung him around, shoving him up against the wall. Taylor held onto Dover's shirt with one hand and made a fist with the other.

"Tell me, Dover, or I swear I will punch you through," he bit out through clenched teeth.

Dover had looked mildly surprised at being swung against the wall, but now he burst into laughter. Furious almost to the point of blindness, Taylor shook Dover, rapping his head against the wall. Dover paused a moment before continuing to laugh. This time Taylor swung his fist hard against the side of Dover's face, managing to knock him sideways a bit and stun him. Dover recovered slowly, dabbing at a trickle of blood from where he had bit his lip. He tossed his head and glared back at Taylor.

"What do you think is going on, you idiot?" Dover said quietly. "He's hunching her."

For a minute Taylor just stared at Dover as he tried to take this in. The stunned expression on Taylor's face just made Dover lapse back into self-satisfied laughter. Taylor felt as if his whole body had gone numb. It couldn't be true. _Is he just messing with me?_ he thought, words and emotions crashing together nonsensically in his head. Taylor tried to shake it off by pushing Dover against the wall again. "You... you're lying!" he snarled.

This just made Dover laugh harder. "How could you not know?" he cried. "Do you really think he needs all those girls just to clean the house? To cook dinner?" He began laughing so hard he couldn't speak and had to recompose himself. "I bet he put his hands on her the first chance he got!"

Taylor was beyond emotion, beyond hurt or rage as this sank in.

Sensing his victory, Dover barreled on. "And who wouldn't, huh? I can see why you like her. She's a nice piece of ass," he sneered.

At this slight Taylor was able to regain some feeling in his fists. He grabbed hold of Dover's shirt with both hands and shook him back and forth. "Shut up!" he spat, his rage beyond words.

The outburst only fueled Dover's triumph. His voice dropped lower. "You know what? I bet she likes it, too," he snickered.

Taylor shivered, disgusted, horrified. "Shut up! Shut _up_!" He gave up on trying to move Dover and just beat his fists against Dover's chest.

Dover's voice dropped to a whisper. "I bet she _moans_ when he fucks her, probably calls out his name--"

Taylor swung blindly at Dover as hard as he could, and didn't stop swinging until Dover hit the ground. He couldn't think, couldn't see anything, could only think about causing Dover as much pain as possible—

At that moment he heard a voice boom that froze him in mid-swing. "What's going on here?!"

Taylor looked up to see Johann standing on the porch above them, staring down at Taylor with a mixture of shock and anger. Fear leapt into Taylor's chest, and he tore away from the scene and sprinted for the dorm as fast as he could. He had no idea where he was going or what he was doing, could only focus on getting away. He burst through the screen door and dove for his sleeping mat, pushing himself into the corner, heart pounding. Outside he could hear confused voices, and Johann's muffled voice yelling. He curled up with his arms around his knees as if he could disappear. He heard feet stomping towards the dorm, up the steps, tearing open the door. Thick hands gripped his arms and wrenched him to his feet. Taylor cried and thrashed like a terrified cat, but he was still dragged out of the dorm and thrown into the waning sunlight.

Taylor blinked, trying to take in what was around him. Johann was bearing down on him like an enraged bear. "I knew it, always knew you were behind all this fighting--"

"It wasn't me!" Taylor wailed, though he knew that, this time, it really had been him to make the first swing. He felt a chill as he realized this was what Dover was aiming for. "Dover, he -- he said --"

"I know what he said!" Johann snapped. "So, what? You got a problem with how I treat my things, boy?"

Taylor froze, gaping at him. _So it's true? Really?_ _He really did--_ "I--"

Johann slapped Taylor across the face before he had a chance to speak. "Don't talk back to me! You're going to listen!" Taylor swayed, and Johann seized Taylor's shirt and held him up. "I know what you're doing coming around the house, and I want to get one thing straight right here, right now! She's _mine!_ If I so much as get a whisper of an idea in my head that you've touched her, I will make both her life and yours a living hell, do you understand me?"

Taylor could not think or speak at all, did not even have the energy to hold himself up. Johann threw him back and he hit the dirt. "I said do you understand me?!" Johann bellowed.

Taylor coughed dirt out of his mouth, tried to put a thought together. "Y-yes, Master," he mumbled, shaking so hard his voice quavered. He could feel himself fading as a hand grabbed the back of his shirt and half hauled, half dragged him away from the dorm towards the side of the barn. He heard the jingle of chains and the cold snap of metal as his wrists were wrenched behind his back and shackled together. The chain was short enough that he could not even stand, much less move -- not that he wanted to. Johann barreled away after shrieking something to the other children not to go anywhere near him, and Taylor glanced up at the darkening sky, and thought and felt and saw nothing for a while.

* * *

It wasn't not being able to move that hurt. It wasn't the pitiful looks or the jeers he heard as the other children passed by. It wasn't the hunger or the weariness as the afternoon wore into the evening. It was being stuck there, with absolutely nothing to take his mind off of what just happened and no way to act on it, that struck deep. The message could not have been any more clear. _You are helpless. There is nothing you can do that will make a difference. You have no power._ As much as he had fought, struggled to put himself above everything and everyone, to make it seem like nothing affected him, he allowed himself to finally feel some of the agony of his situation. The truth that had been written in his flesh was slowly starting to sink in and spread like a festering wound, too painful to ignore any longer. _This is real. This is who I am now._ Worse still was admitting that this was the way things could be from now on. There might not be an easy way out. Cale could have given up on him. _This could go on for a long time. This could go on forever._ It was too much to take in, too much to think or feel, and he just sat and waited, feeling every minute tick by -- feeling nothing, saying nothing. _Maybe... he was right about me_ , Taylor thought, but he shook his head. No. There was nothing about that man that was right.

As night fell and the activity on the farm died down, Dover wandered over to the barn. For a moment he just watched Taylor stare into space. Later on he couldn't say what it was that made him do it, but he walked over to the barn and squatted down in front of Taylor, staring at his face.

At first Taylor did not react in any way. Then, slowly, he turned his head and focused his eyes on Dover. "Aren't you going to get in trouble?" Taylor said, quiet and slow, as if he had just woken up.

Dover's mouth twitched into a slight smirk. "Who, me? Never."

Taylor blinked, then looked away. "Are you happy now? You got what you wanted, right?" He shrugged his shoulders, the most he could move his arms. "Go ahead -- hit me as much as you want."

Dover frowned and sat back. "I'm not going to hit you, idiot," he said. "What's the point in hitting you like this? Not my thing."

Taylor rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever. So the rest of the time it doesn't matter?" He hated to admit it, but just having Dover around was dragging him up out of the black pit he had been stewing in for the past several hours. Even if not necessarily in a good way.

"I already told you, it's education!" Dover grinned and tapped the side of his head.

"So that today was 'education'?" Taylor said bitterly.

Dover looked away. "Well you smacked me around like a punching bag, so maybe not."

Remembering the whole thing was putting an angry knot in Taylor's stomach. He was starting to feel that he really did not want Dover there anymore.

Dover sighed and leaned on his knees. "Look... uh... I'm sorry about... what I said." Taylor gave a derisive snort of disbelief. "About her liking it, I mean," Dover added. Taylor noted that he at least had the decency to look a little embarrassed.

"I don't care what you said," Taylor lied, "and I don't care if you're sorry." He shot Dover a glare. "You knew. You knew all along about her, didn't you?"

Dover stared down at his knees. "Well... yeah. It's not just her, you know. It's all of them," he said in a small voice. "Though he... plays favorites."

Taylor did not want to hear about this. But it involved Melody, and he had to know. The questions on his mind were too difficult to think about, much less speak. He swallowed. "Does he... hurt them?" he asked, voice shaking.

Dover raised his eyes to Taylor's face, who refused to meet his gaze. "Do you want me to lie to you? How do you think it feels?"

This was all Taylor really needed to hear. He remembered all the times that Dover and his gang managed to corner him, to hurt and overpower him, and felt he could understand. His chest grew tight and tears stung his eyes, and he fought to keep them back, but this hurt more than it hurt his pride to break down in front of Dover.

Dover did nothing about it, just sat watching Taylor for a moment. "Listen... don't get too attached to anyone," he muttered. "Don't let yourself care too much. It's the easiest way for him to hurt you. You can't fight him."

Taylor said nothing, just stared at a spot beyond Dover's shoulder and bit his lip. Dover sighed and got to his feet, heading back towards the dorm, where Kaelin was waiting on the steps. Eventually the lights shut off and he was plunged into darkness. Taylor pulled his knees up to his chest and buried his face against them. With no one to hear him or care, he let himself cry until everything washed out, and he fell asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

The next few weeks passed in a haze. After his night spent shackled to the barn, Taylor went through his routine with a restless absentmindedness for several days, until he finally had a chance to see Melody again. She did not look happy to see him, only hurt, and he lost his composure. The pain and desperation in his voice when he asked what happened to her only frightened her more, and she ran back into the house before he could get a word out of her. She stopped coming to the kitchen. She stopped leaving her room at all. Eventually, he stopped asking about her. He threw himself into his work at a feverish pitch, working himself to exhaustion every day so he wouldn't have to think about her, wouldn't have to think about anything at all.

He learned all the keywords to appease Johann and practiced them until they became automatic. He stopped responding to the taunts and threats of the other boys. When Dover and his gang managed to corner him, he stopped fighting back. At first this passive behavior only irritated them all more. Eventually, as the weeks passed and the heat of the summer months began to set in, the tension and frustration turned away from Taylor and out towards unsuspecting subjects.

With Taylor no longer commanding Johann's attention, Johann's critical eye turned back to the other children. The aggression that had, for a while, been focused almost solely on him now rampaged wildly about. Dover was so busy attempting to redirect Johann's energy that he had little of his own energy leftover, much less any left for pestering Taylor. For a while, Taylor was grateful for the reprieve. He watched members of Dover's gang take the beatings that were once reserved for him, and felt he could believe he didn't care. Only a month ago he hadn't understood how the others could just stand back and do nothing while someone was hurt. Slowly, he was starting to understand. _Don't let yourself care too much. Better you than me._

* * *

After weeks of this, the pressure was breaking everyone apart. Dover was constantly trying to break up fights, or getting sucked into them. Kaelin most of all seemed to be cracking, and his neurotic outbursts and thin emotional thread meant that he became a prime target for Johann's fierce criticism. So it was that Taylor found himself still awake late into the night, trying desperately to sleep against the sound of Kaelin's incessant sobbing. He wasn't the only one awake. The sound was terrifying, pitiful. Everyone wanted it to stop.

Kaelin was sitting on his knees in front of Dover, gazing down at his hands. Blood crusted his ruddy hair and his face had started to swell around a black eye. He was breathing in short, sharp gasps of pain. Every gasp made Taylor shiver, and he shut his eyes and tried to concentrate on blocking it out, as he often practiced.

" _Shut up... God, shut up..._ " Taylor heard Dover whispering frantically to Kaelin. Kaelin only sobbed louder. The sound startled everyone in the dorm.

"You're going to wake _him_ up!" Alanis moaned, and Taylor imagined her hands pawing at her scalp as it always did, seeking to find purchase, any hair to pull out, any momentary comfort.

"You want to get us all fucking beat?" Kanya snapped. Accepting that he was not going to be able to sleep at this rate, Taylor opened his eyes to see Kanya slam a thin pillow over her head, as if to block out the noise. Lorel, sitting beside Kanya, was watching Kaelin, face frozen in numb shock.

Kaelin was shivering so violently that Taylor could hear his teeth chatter. He was rocking in wide circles, as Taylor had often seen him do when he was anxious. Kaelin's hands flapped back and forth as he rocked, arms pulled up towards his chest; his body was moving beyond his control. "I DON'T CARE!" Kaelin screamed, making Taylor wince. "I DON'T CARE! I HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE! I HAVE TO GET OUT!" Kaelin leapt to his feet, and Dover and Jareth jumped on him before he could stand up straight. They slammed him back to the floor, wrestling him to the ground. Kaelin lashed out against them, and Jareth twisted Kaelin's arms back in one smooth motion, pinning his wrists to the small of his back. Kaelin let out a wail of frustration and pain, but Jareth didn't let up, didn't even blink.

"What you have to do is shut the hell up! Stop it!" Dover said, as loud as he could without yelling. Out of desperation, he batted Kaelin across the side of his face -- just hard enough to stun him, to hopefully shut him up. Kaelin made a guttural choking nose and began to whine. His legs pedaled slowly, helplessly behind him.

"Oh for the love of..." Ric muttered, arms folded across his chest, watching the scene with his one good eye. He didn't make any attempt to help, just sat there. Taylor sneered -- so typical of Ric to bitch, but do nothing.

Kurt was just the opposite. He was pacing, pacing, back and forth by the right door, muttering to himself in a constant stream. "Oh my god... oh my god..." Seized with a flash of anger, he swung his fist against the wooden wall, where it landed with a sharp _thunk_.

The sound caught Dover's attention. "Hey, knock it off!" he yelled up at Kurt.

"HEY, FUCK YOU!" Kurt snapped back. Taylor realized that amid the commotion, Tu was blabbering something in his native language. No one paid attention.

Beyond language now, Kaelin screamed at both of them, so loud and desperate that for a moment Taylor's heart seemed to stop. Though Taylor could block out crying or moaning, he didn't think he would ever get used to the sound of screaming. It stunned everyone into a tense silence. Jareth leaned back and pulled Kaelin off the floor. Kaelin started to cry again.

"Don't you see... we're n-never going to be safe," Kaelin said, struggling to speak through wracking sobs. "I just want to be safe... I just want to be safe..." His words broke off – he was crying too hard to speak.

Dover put his hand over Kaelin's mouth and held it there. Kaelin's breath streamed out of his nose against the back of Dover's palm in wet bursts, and his tears coursed down around Dover's knuckles, slipping between his fingers.

"He's right... he's right, you know..." a timid voice suddenly spoke up. It was Hamid; he clutched his hands to his mouth, staring at Kaelin in horror.

"Oh, Jesus! Not you, too!" Dover groaned.

"Someone needs to shut him up!" Kanya's muffled voice yelled from under her pillow.

"Why don't _you_ fucking do it? Get off your ass!" Kurt shot back.

"YOU! SIT DOWN!" Dover snapped. He snatched Kurt's arm and pulled him hard towards the floor. Kurt stumbled forward.

" _Don't fucking touch me_!" Kurt snapped back. Taylor could see him shake as he pushed Dover's hand away.

"You don't wanna sit, I'll make you sit, got it?" Jareth growled, his voice rumbling slow and deep, like thunder building. Kurt's jaw clicked into place and he settled next to Ric, scowling and shivering.

Ric rolled his eyes and settled down against his sleeping mat. "I'm never gonna get any sleep at his rate..." he muttered.

" _You_ get any sleep? What about the rest of us, huh?" Kanya spat, shooting a glare over at Ric. Ric glared back and made a gesture with his hand that Taylor had come to recognize well.

Dover was opening his mouth to say something to them when a voice roared from the doorway, " _WHAT'S GOING ON IN HERE?_ "

They all looked to the door, where Johann stood, barely visible in the dim light. Everyone, even Kaelin, was instantly silent. He swayed a bit as he stepped over Hamid and Alanis. Kaelin had stopped crying, but Taylor could still see him shaking.

"Do you... do you know what time it is, you... little shits?" Johann said, voice halting and blurry. Taylor couldn't decide if he had just woken up, or if he was still a little drunk. Or possibly, both. By now, Taylor was familiar with the way alcohol twisted Johann's already violent and unpredictable personality. Silently he prayed that it really was just sleepiness that made Johann look and sound out of it.

Johann had caught sight of Kaelin. He stepped over to Jareth, who was still holding Kaelin's arms. "Let go of him!" Johann snarled, tearing Kaelin's arms away from Jareth's grip and knocking him forward. Dover drew back against the wall, eyes wide. Taylor felt himself grow cold; something about seeing Dover look so frightened was disconcerting, terrifying. Beside himself, Kaelin started to cry again. Johann paused, watching Kaelin cry for a moment, then reached down and grabbed the collar of Kaelin's shirt, lifting him off the floor.

Kaelin panicked. " _NO!_ No! Leave me alone!" he screamed, but didn't dare fight. Johann dragged Kaelin to his feet and towards the door. Kaelin sobbed the whole way, muttering in breathy gasps, " _No, please don't, please, no no no no..._ " With a squelch and a slam of the screen door, they were gone.

For a minute, the dorm was silent. Across the room, Taylor could hear Alanis quietly crying. Taylor could not cry, could only feel a deep-seated dread twisting down his throat and clenching his stomach. He could hear everyone trying to settle down, trying to ignore what had just happened. Kanya sighed. Tu murmured to himself and burrowed under a pile of blankets. Taylor laid on his side, too sick to sleep. He stared over at Dover in the dark, still sitting pressed against the wall, gazing out into nothing. On the other side of the wall, he could hear Johann's muffled voice.

Like everyone else, Taylor tried to ignore the crack of bone and slap of pummeled flesh so he could sleep. The sounds blurred and melted together, and he faded away, faded back into the darkness. The last thing he saw before he fell asleep was the shimmer of Dover's eyes staring down at the spot where Kaelin had been.

* * *

Though none of the boys were quite old enough to need one, they had a shaving razor stashed with some of the toiletries in the dorm. There was only one razor -- actually a shaving blade, long and difficult to handle. Though it was old and poorly kept, it was still sharp.

The next morning they found the knife sitting in heavy mud next to Kaelin's lifeless hand. A thick line was drawn across Kaelin's throat, skin and a thin layer of fat yawning around the cut, the skin now a dull, bloodless gray. Blood spilled over his chest, caked over deep black bruises, soaked into the dirt and the side of the washbasin his head now rested against. Blood coated his black fingers. Droplets of blood clung to his eyelashes, eyelids only half-lidded, milky pupils gazing into eternity. In the dense, cold morning air, there was the pungent sting of drying blood, of mud, of flesh slowly rotting.

Every detail of the body etched itself into Taylor's mind as he stood, frozen, staring down at it. Bile surged up his throat, and he dashed around the corner just in time to vomit in the dirt beside the dorm.

He had woke that morning to a blood-curdling scream. It was Alanis, the first to go outside. Within a minute the dorm had emptied, with the exception of Dover. He was still sitting in the same spot, and refused to move.

Taylor walked back around the dorm, slowly, shakily. Kanya was holding Alanis, who was practically shrieking. Tears were streaming silently down Kanya's face. The rest of Dover's gang stood in a cluster, shocked beyond words or action or reaction. Jareth stared down in his detached way, brow furrowed; Ric crossed his arms and gazed down at his feet, unfocused; Kurt clenched and unclenched his fists and shuddered, as if he could somehow punish Kaelin for what he had done. Hamid was attempting to herd a protesting Tu and Lorel back inside before they got a chance to look.

Monifa, Yve, and Nekane were next on the scene. Yve let out a shriek of surprise and anguish and dashed back inside -- Taylor recalled with a jolt the rumor going around recently that the two had kissed, and he felt the slightest pang of sympathy for Yve. Nekane froze when she saw the body, picking absentmindedly at a long, thin scab on her arm. Monifa looked shocked at first, and then rather resigned, as if she had somehow been expecting it.

Johann came running out of the house next, looking disheveled and more than just a little hung over. The clothing he had thrown on in a hurry hung loosely around him as he ground to a halt, shoving his way inside the circle. Seeing him just made Alanis cry harder. Jareth, Kurt, and Ric jumped out of the way, but Taylor could see their expressions turn mutinous behind Johann's back. Though no one would speak it, everyone had the same thought on their mind.

For a long moment Johann just stared down at the body. Uttering a stream of curses he kneeled down and gently inspected it. Even Taylor could tell that before taking a knife to his own throat, Kaelin had been in bad shape: there was deep black bruising on his chest that told of cracked ribs, and his left arm was twisted at an angle that made Taylor's skin crawl. The source of the injuries could not have been any more obvious, and Johann sighed, massaging his temple. He reached forward and closed Kaelin's eyes, then staggered to his feet. The circle of onlookers flinched back as he turned around.

Johann stared around the circle, his jaw working open and closed like a fish gasping for air. After a pause he must have conceded that there was nothing he could possibly say. He pointed at Jareth, Kurt, and Ric. "You three, bury him," he muttered, voice drained and cracked. "Rest of you, get going. Nothing more to see here." With that he lumbered back towards the house and disappeared into the kitchen.

Monifa murmured something to Alanis and Kanya, and started to coax Nekane back to the kitchen. Alanis finally stopped crying, and she followed Kanya around the corner and out of sight. The three boys left of Dover's gang did not move, just stood, as if waiting for something. Taylor realized what it was as Dover stepped around the corner towards them, eyes avoiding the body. Taylor watched as the four exchanged glances. Dover handed Jareth a blanket, who nodded and kneeled next to Jareth. With a tenderness Taylor would not have expected out of such a hulking bully, Jareth carefully pulled Kaelin's body into the blanket, and lifted him away from the washbasin. Slowly he walked around the corner, Ric and Kurt following. Dover watched them disappear, then turned to look back at Taylor. Taylor froze as their eyes met. For a moment they just stared at one another as Taylor took in the desolation on Dover's face. Dover swallowed and clenched his jaw, brow furrowing, and broke his gaze. He jogged after Jareth and the others, leaving Taylor alone behind the dorm.

Taylor wanted to feel a sense of justice. Kaelin had been easy not to care about; he was annoying, a scrawny bully that had never made any attempt to appeal to anyone's better nature than Dover's. He wanted to feel relieved that there was one less lackey for Dover to command, one less bombshell setting off Johann's indignant fits. Try as he might, he couldn't feel any of it. In a way he felt resentful, even envious of Kaelin. After all, he had managed to do as he said – to get out. But after seeing Dover's face, Taylor felt that Kaelin had crossed a line to do so.

Taylor glanced down at the dark stain on the ground where Kaelin had been. He sighed, and was about to move when he felt a prickle on his neck, and spun around. He saw Corinne approaching him, looking as immaculate as she ever did in a burgundy dress. He didn't usually see her outside the house, and when he did, she typically kept to a rocking chair on the porch where she would sit and read, or watch the children work. Watching her grow closer, he found himself feeling both confused and wary. _What does she want?_ he thought uneasily.

"Good morning," she called as she stepped up to him.

Taylor did not think it could be any less of a good morning, but he tipped his head as she approached. "Morning," he managed to choke out.

She cast him a slight smile at the greeting. "I heard about what happened. How awful," she said. The pouty lilt to her voice came across as forced to him. Though on the surface her expression and words betrayed nothing, Taylor felt uneasy around her, felt the act she was putting on. He wanted nothing to do with what she wanted to say, just wanted to be alone, but he knew he wouldn't be able to get away easily. Corinne was sure to report anything and everything straight to Johann. He had to put on a good face whether he liked it or not.

"Yes, ma'am," he said. He toyed with a loose thread on his shirt, trying to avoid looking her in the eye. He wanted to tell her what he really thought about it – perhaps even how he wished it had been _him_ , if that would shock her at all – but thought better of it. Experience taught him better. "Really awful," he added.

He felt her hand settle gently on his shoulder, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. If she noticed the reaction, she gave no indication. "If you ever feel like that, you can always come talk to me, okay?" she purred, brushing her hand in circles around his shoulder as if to comfort him. "Taylor, isn't it?"

Taylor thought that she was probably the _last_ person he would ever talk to about such things, but he forced himself to nod anyway.

She smiled and patted him on the shoulder. Taylor felt both embarrassed and nauseated, though he could not explain why. "Good boy. Now, go on; I'll have one of the girls take care of this mess."

He did not need to be told twice. Taylor broke away from her touch and walked around the corner, feeling some silent sympathy for whatever girl she forced the task on. He cast one last confused look over his shoulder at Corinne before heading towards the fields.

* * *

No one made much of an attempt to work that day. Dover and his gang worked through the morning and into the afternoon burying Kaelin by one of the small trees beyond the fields. For a while the four sat by the dirt mound, and trickled away one by one, until only Dover was left sitting in the dirt. Johann didn't show his face for the rest of the day. Taylor saw Corinne only once more, kneeling next to Dover. Curious, he watched until she got up and walked away, but she did not approach any of the others, just disappeared inside the house. Evening fell, but Dover didn't move. As the sun sank below the horizon, Taylor found himself walking through the fields to stand beside Dover and stare down at the freshly heaped earth.

For several minutes Dover did not react to Taylor's presence, just gazed out at the horizon. Taylor was beginning to wonder why he came over when Dover finally spoke. "It's my fault," Dover said, so quietly that Taylor at first wasn't sure he had heard it at all. "I couldn't protect him." He scooped up a handful of earth and tossed it onto the pile.

Taylor stared down at his feet. He wanted to say that it wasn't Dover's fault, that there was no way anyone could have protected Kaelin. But he knew he'd also have to admit that it was not his fault that he had become a slave, not his fault that he could not protect himself. He'd have to admit it wasn't his fault that Melody had locked herself away. The words died before they could ever reach his mouth. "I thought you didn't care," Taylor mumbled.

Dover sneered; the irony was not lost on him. "I don't. If I really cared, do you think he would have still done it?"

There was no right answer, and Taylor looked away to the fading sunlight on the horizon, up to the branches of the tree above them. "Well... I guess he is free, though, right?"

"He's _not_ free," Dover spat. He pushed himself to his feet, startling Taylor. He fixed Taylor with a sharp glare. "He's _dead_. This," he pointed down to the grave, "is _not_ freedom. He was an idiot."

Taylor stared back, stunned, then looked away. Dover pushed past him, heading towards the fields. Taylor turned to follow, pausing to glance back at the grave. No point in envying the dead. He jogged after Dover, the promise of dinner, and a life that would continue just the way it had before he woke up to a scream.

* * *

A crack of sunlight squeezed past the heavy curtains, cutting across her face like the blade of a knife. Melody stirred, blue eyes blinking against the glare of the light. She pushed back the curtain, squinting. She could see small shapes in the fields below. She leaned against the windowsill, watching them, trying to pick out a particular one. Finally she found him, working off by himself as he always did. She smiled, wondering what he was thinking. It had been weeks since the last time she saw him, and it hadn't gone well; her expression fell at the memory. She pressed her hands to the glass, as if it could draw them closer. _Tai... I'm sorry,_ she thought. _But I don't want you hurt anymore because of me._ She knew he had stopped asking about her, and she hoped, secretly dreaded, that he might be forgetting about her.

She had stopped leaving the room at all. Though Monifa encouraged her every day to get out, to work and forget about things, she was too afraid to step outside the doorway. What difference did the work make? What difference did it make where she was in the house? What need was there for her to socialize with anyone, if it could only make things worse, only make things more painful? What use was she to anyone except Johann?

Just thinking about him brought on a crippling wave of nausea, and she rolled off the bed and dashed to the bathroom. She made it to the toilet just as the first wave broke. She clutched the rim of the toilet seat, shaking, waiting for the inevitable wave that would follow.

Of anyone, Johann seemed the least bothered by the fact that she never left the room – hardly seemed to notice. She knew he didn't care, had never cared about what she could do around the house. She was quickly learning how to predict his moods, how to work around and direct them. A smile and a touch could be enough to soften even his sharpest bad moods, though she never truly felt the tenderness behind her expressions or actions. It was just another way of fighting for control, a desperate cast into an endless sea in search of a hope, a way to make things less painful. Even then it was sometimes not enough. He could be unpredictable; there were rages she could not hope to control, only hope to keep him focused on her and away from the other girls. More than fear, shame kept her locked inside her room all day and all night. _This is how things should be. I'm dirty, disgusting. I brought this on myself._

Maybe this was why she found herself overwhelmed with nausea every morning. She waited for the surging feeling in her stomach to subside and flushed, watching the water swirl around, as if to mimic her spinning thoughts. She heard a noise behind her and jumped to her feet; seeing Nekane standing in the doorway, she relaxed slightly, leaning against the counter of the sink.

Nekane glanced from her to the toilet. "You're sick again?" she said quietly.

Melody turned on the faucet, held her hands out under the stream of water. She said nothing.

Nekane was only too used to the silent treatment, and she stepped closer to Melody. "How long?" she asked.

Melody turned her head, glancing quizzically at Nekane.

"Since your last cycle," Nekane clarified. "How long?"

Melody looked back to the sink. How long _had_ it been? She leaned down and splashed water on her face. Nekane watched as Melody scooped a towel off the counter and dabbed at her face. For a moment she just stared back at Nekane, then looked away. Well, what did it matter to Nekane, anyway? She turned to walk past Nekane back to the room.

Nekane stepped into her path. " _I'm serious_ ," she whispered. "If you're... if he finds out... you _can't_ tell him about this!"

Melody had no idea what Nekane was talking about, but she gave Nekane her best smile, and stepped around her. What was there to find out? What could possibly be worse than the way things were now?


	9. Chapter 9

After Kaelin's suicide, Taylor felt himself slowing down. At first he thought it might just be the general gloomy mood that persisted for several days afterward. He couldn't go anywhere near the washbasin without being reminded of it, and neither could anyone else. Dover refused to look at him, much less bother him. He had even started avoiding the remaining gang members, and would sometimes disappear altogether once everyone had gone to bed. Everyone was left to deal with their individual emotions about it in his or her own way, for better or worse. And Taylor was certainly feeling worse. The heaviness of spirit he felt after that day turned into a very real heaviness in his chest. He started coughing, sometimes so hard he would double over, tears welling in his eyes. A few days later he coughed up blood and collapsed on the field, and he found himself inside a building that he had previously only seen from the outside – the old overseer's cabin.

The inside had been gutted and refitted to be used explicitly for the purpose of isolation. There was only one small room, which contained a bed and a large window, and a few cabinets. The cabinets had a spattering of medical supplies: some bandages and gauze, antiseptic, a couple bottles of multi-species analgesic. The other medication bottles were beyond Taylor, and many had long since expired. A tiny closet in the back had been turned into a bathroom, with a toilet and sink crammed inside.

Most of this he discovered later, because he spent the first night locked in this room mostly asleep. When he wasn't asleep, he was coughing and heaving, drenched in cold sweat. Taylor had caught bugs before – it was inevitable growing up on an alien planet – but he had never felt quite this wretched. No one was allowed to see him, with the exception of Dover, who had somehow been saddled into bringing him food and making sure he took medication. The medicine did not help, only made him nauseated. For several days while he took the medication, he could not keep any food down, and Dover was constantly taking out cold, full plates to replace them with new ones. He joked that Taylor was doing this on purpose to get out of work, but Taylor did not think there was anything to be envious about. If anything, being locked inside the cabin was the worst part. With nothing to do and no one to talk to, there was nothing to distract him from thinking about things, things he tried very hard not to think about usually. Like wondering how much time had passed since he was sold. Or how Melody was. Or where Cale was and what he was doing, if Cale was still looking for him. If he'd even still be alive once – if – Cale managed to find him.

Though Dover had been expressly forbidden to do anything other than give him food and medicine, Taylor started to notice that Dover made any excuse not to leave. Usually this excuse was played off as making sure Taylor didn't choke on his food, or toss out the medication. But even when he had managed to swallow the pills and increasingly larger portions of food, Dover would hang around. For the first few days Taylor was too out of it to care much, and would often fall asleep listening to Dover talk. Eventually he realized that Dover was not looking for someone to talk with, so much as talk _at_. More than that, Taylor was suspicious that Dover might be genuinely _worried_ about him. Perhaps Taylor's illness being so close to Kaelin's death scared Dover more than he let on. Taylor wouldn't dare to admit that he actually appreciated having Dover around during those days that he clung to life, struggling to pull himself back towards the sound of Dover's voice. As much as resented Dover, even feared him, he felt some begrudging acceptance of who this boy was and what he had suffered.

When he had finally recovered and was set free from isolation, things went back to the way they were. Dover stopped talking to him and started hanging around Jareth, Kurt and Ric again. To Taylor's annoyance, they also had picked up bullying him again – the sort of stupid tricks they had played when he first arrived. Even this, in some bizarre way, felt right – as if the rifts between them all were beginning to mend. When he came out of isolation, he found that the attitudes the others had towards him had changed as well. Kanya joked with him about how much weight he had lost, and Alanis helped him wash his clothes. Tu and Lorel stopped hiding behind Alanis and tried to get him to play tag with them. Hamid tried to give Taylor his portion of bread at dinner. As surprised as he was of the change in them, he was more surprised at the change in himself. He had stopped avoiding them, stopped shutting them out. He found himself actually _wanting_ to talk to them and be near them. Though he had always thought of himself as somehow being apart from them, he was slowly starting to think of himself as one of them. In a way, this was not as frightening as he had expected. As the days passed, he began to think there was a way things could be better. He saw the way the others talked and laughed with each other, the way they sang and played together, and believed it was possible to survive anything as long as the experience was shared – as long as there was hope and trust in something better. More than anything, it was something he wanted to be a part of. Even if the people he most wanted to share it with weren't there – even if Melody wasn't there.

* * *

"I heard you've been sick."

Melody froze, clutching the fabric of the dress to her chest. She glanced back at Johann sitting on the edge of the bed, cigarette clamped between his lips, eyeing her with suspicion. She watched the smoke curl around his face and looked away. "I'm fine," she said, wrapping the fabric around her.

She heard the springs of the mattress creak, and the thud of his footsteps behind her. She felt his hands settle on hers and she shivered.

"Forget about that, sit back down," he grumbled, pulling her hands away from her chest. She obeyed, letting the fabric drop to the floor and pool around her feet. She quashed the fleeting sensation of vulnerability and shame of being naked in front of him. She turned away from him and climbed onto the bed, settling into the corner of the headboard. He took a drag of the cigarette and leaned down to an ashtray on the floor, blotting it out. Melody wrapped her arms around her knees and watched as he sat back down on the edge of the bed. He fixed her with his gaze once more. "You're not lying to me, are you?" he said. Her eyes started to drift to the side and snapped back to his face when he said, "Look at me."

She tried to hold his gaze without shaking. "N-no," she replied. She internally winced that she could not keep her voice from shaking.

He frowned and worked his jaw, a gesture she knew meant he was thinking critically, looking inside her. Finally he looked away, towards Nekane, who was sleeping in her own bed with her back to them on the other side of the room. Melody watched her side rise and fall. "That boy, he hasn't tried to see you, has he?"

Melody shook her head and, realizing he couldn't see it, spoke, "No, he hasn't."

"Hmph. Not bothering you anymore, is he? Don't care about him anymore?"

Melody settled her cheek against her knee, glancing down at her feet. "No."

"So you don't care that he was sick for a while, too?" This got Melody's attention; she couldn't stop herself from raising her head, and she saw the corner of his mouth twitch into a smirk. "Didn't think he was gonna make it, but apparently he's a bit tougher than he looks," he said, chuckling in the coughing, rumbling way he did. Melody hid her face behind the back of her knee, watching him above her nose, embarrassed and irritated with herself that she had betrayed her thoughts about Tai. He went on as if he didn't notice this. "That boy... I don't know... he talks like he's wizened up, but I don't believe it for a second," he muttered, as if to himself. "He's smart, I'll give him that. Thinks he's got me figured. Now that he's getting along with the other brats, he might get ideas, might rethink his place here." He shifted his weight, leaning back against the bed. "There's gotta be something I can hit, something that'll break him in for good. Make him stop thinking." Melody just stared at him, intrigued, confused. Johann glanced over at her, and she felt another wave of nausea come on. _Oh no, not now_ , she internally groaned, and tried to fight it down.

For a moment he just stared at her, brow furrowing, jaw working. She felt more and more uneasy the longer he stared. "Why don't you want to leave this room?" he asked.

Stunned, she just stared back at him. He had never asked this before, never mentioned it. She couldn't think of how to answer.

"Comfortable here?" Johann supplied. He reached out to touch her arm, and she could not suppress a flinch. Something flashed across Johann's eyes, and she felt a twinge of fear. "Or do you think you got me figured out, too?"

His grip tightened on her arm, and she squeaked, shaking her head.

"Don't lie to me. I know why you're doing this. Think you can protect him? Think you can protect _her_?" He tossed his head to indicate Nekane sleeping across the room.

She shook her head more forcibly, hair tossing from side to side, but knew it meant nothing – knew it was too late.

"Think you're pretty cute, huh? Think you're pretty smart?" He pushed himself closer to her, and she leaned back against the headboard; there was nowhere to go. "You know, way I figure it, I am out a worker since that brat went and offed himself. If you don't like it here, there's a spot open."

Melody bit her lip and whimpered, clutching his arm. " _N-no, please_..." she moaned.

He sat next to her, so close she could feel the heat of his breath. He pulled her arm away from her knees, and she instinctively pulled her knees against her chest, crossing her ankles. "Yeah... think that is what I am going to do," he said quietly. "You go back down to that boy. See what it's like to have to pull your weight with the rest of 'em." He pushed her knees down with his free hand, and she had to throw all her concentration into not lifting them again. His hand brushed her thigh, and she shivered, drawing in a deep, rattling breath. "Go ahead and think you're free, that you're in control," he whispered. "I'll have you both right where I want you. And there won't be any more of this thinking." He slipped his hand between her legs, and she clenched her eyes shut.

* * *

Taylor's eyes slowly blinked open. It was dark, and his vision was blurry. In his grogginess, he couldn't understand why he had woken up. The blurry shapes swam into focus, and he realized he was gazing back into blue eyes. Startled, he jerked back, sitting up.

Melody was lying on her side next to him, watching him. Her face was tear-stained and cracked. Her dress was disheveled and barely clung to her shoulders, as if she had not cared to put it on properly. In the dim light he could just barely see deep purple markings around her neck and collarbone.

" _Melody?!_ " Taylor whispered in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

Fresh tears leaked out of her eyes and streamed down the bridge of her nose and across her cheek. She reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling herself closer to him. He could feel her shaking.

"What's wrong? Does..." Taylor swallowed and dropped his voice even lower. "Does he know you're here?"

She sniffed, burying her face against his arm, and slowly nodded. "I... I can't go back," she hiccupped. "He... he said I.. I can't." At this she began to sob. Taylor could hear someone across the room stir at the sound.

Taylor gently laid back down next to her. He was shocked and confused, not sure what to make of this development at all. Listening to her cry chased away the confusion, and he could only focus on her, in front of him, in pain. " _Ssh... it's okay..._ " he whispered. She cried harder, and he could feel her breath puff against his arm, her tears run down his skin. He heard muffled voices speak across the room. Carefully, he lifted his hand to the side of her face, pushing her hair back away from her mouth. She flinched at his touch and he winced, but her cries became softer. He slowly wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and she sniffed. "It's okay... go to sleep..." he murmured. He listened to her sniff until the tears stopped, and her breath evened out into a slow, steady rhythm. He felt her side rise and fall under his arm, and felt his breath starting to slow, until it matched her own, and he fell asleep.

* * *

By morning, everyone seemed to know about what had happened with Melody, even though she refused to talk about it. Taylor spent the morning with her attached to his arm, as if she might float off into space if she let go. He tried to distract her by talking to the others, who were both curious and reluctant to speak to her, as if she were a timid animal that might bite. Taylor was worried that Dover and his gang might give her the same treatment he had received as a newcomer, but while they snickered and made snide comments under their breath about Taylor, they didn't outright say or do anything to Melody. Perhaps even they had limits.

Though Taylor tried to teach Melody what to do around the farm, she was practically useless. She struggled with the simplest tasks, partly out of physical weakness, and partly out of utter distraction. Taylor ended up having to do double the work just to correct her mistakes, but his frustration was superseded by his concern for her and his desire to reassure her. If he could make her feel at peace here, maybe she would not be so distressed about the sudden change.

Taylor spent the day thinking about it, but could not deduce what this move meant on Johann's part. Considering what Taylor had personally suffered, he doubted that Johann would have let her go so easily without some greater purpose. With no other option, he decided to consult the best source of information he could think of: Dover. This was not an easy task, since he had to both get away from Melody and try to get Dover on his own. The opportunity arose several nights later, while the girls were bathing, and the guys were banished to the front of the dorm to wait their turn.

His desire to find out more information to help Melody briefly clashed with his fear and distaste of Dover's gang. Taylor shook away the apprehension and tried to look confident and determined as he approached Dover. The gang fell silent as he approached, shooting him suspicious looks. Taylor ignored them and focused on Dover. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" Kurt immediately jumped to his feet and Taylor's eyes darted to him. "Alone," Taylor added.

The four exchanged glances, and Dover waved for Kurt to sit back down. "Alright, fine," he said. He followed Taylor away from the dorm, around to the front of the tool shed. Dover leaned against the door and crossed his arms. "So what's up, loverboy?" Dover said.

Taylor clenched and unclenched his fists, feeling some regret about this idea already. He decided to just get right to the point and get this conversation over with. "It's about Melody."

"Yeah? What about her?"

"Do you have any idea what happened?"

Dover shifted his weight, tossing his bangs out of his eyes. "How should I know?"

Taylor glanced down at his feet. "I don't know... I mean... after all that... I thought I wasn't going to see her again," he muttered. He paused, thinking. "Has he ever done this before?"

"No, not since I've been here," Dover answered, shrugging. At the disappointed slump of Taylor's shoulders, Dover tilted his head and leaned forward. "Listen... I don't really know what happened... but don't get too close to her," he said in a low voice. "It's no coincidence she came straight to you. I don't know what he's thinking, but I know him, and I know he's got something up his sleeve."

Taylor stared back at Dover. This didn't answer any questions for him, and he just felt more frustrated. "Yeah, well... thanks for the advice," Taylor mumbled, walking around Dover back towards the dorm, head spinning.

* * *

While Melody's attention and emotions improved over the next few days, they worsened bit by bit after dark. Once the sun set she would become agitated and restless, to the point Taylor had to remove her from the group to focus solely on her and keeping her calm. He tried to distract her by keeping her talking. When she stopped talking, he dug into the back of his mind and pulled up stories from the countless texts he had read as a child. What he didn't remember, he'd fill in or change to catch her attention. This worked for a while, but it couldn't mask whatever it was that would cause Melody to become frantic at night, and he would still have to coax her into sleeping. Between dealing with Melody and taking on the extra workload she couldn't manage, he could feel himself draining fast. When after a few days Melody noticed that Nekane would not come down to the kitchen, she became practically inconsolable. He was finding it harder and harder to be strong and stay positive for her, and on the rare occasions he managed to find time alone, the emotions and stress would overwhelm him and he'd find himself gasping for air and sick to his stomach. Deep inside, Taylor had the sneaking suspicion that Johann knew this would happen – had intended for it to happen.

To Taylor, all of this was alright as long as it meant that Johann would not be hurting Melody the way he had while she was living in the house. He largely ignored her while walking around the farm during the day, which only seemed to make Melody more anxious. He wanted to believe that she would improve and things would get better once she realized she was okay now, that she was safe; even though Dover's words rang around in his head, and he couldn't believe the same thing himself. He still felt some dread and tension over the whole thing, and only when it got to the point that he could hardly sleep himself did Johann finally make his move.

It was a warm, humid night in the dead of summer. Taylor had finally gotten Melody to go to sleep, and was struggling with the same thing himself, tossing and turning, trying to find a cool spot. It was late, and as usual, he was the last one awake. He stared up at the ceiling and listened to the chirp and whine of bugs outside, trying to place their names from their sounds. Sweat streamed down his forehead, and he thought he might cry if he didn't manage to fall asleep soon. It had been a long, hot day, and Melody had had a particularly bad episode around dinner.

He was so exhausted and focused on trying to fall asleep that he didn't notice the footsteps outside until they were thudding against the wooden steps, and the screen door in front of his mat slowly creaked open. He pushed himself up, confused. Despite the heat, he felt his blood freeze when he saw Johann standing in the doorway. _What does he want?_ Taylor thought, and he instinctively moved closer to Melody. The sound of the door had startled her awake as if it had been a gunshot, and she looked around in confusion. When she saw Johann, she gave a frightened squeak and clung to Taylor.

Johann easily bridged the space between them with a few quiet steps, leaning down next to Melody. Taylor caught the stench of sweat from Johann's clothing – apparently he had also been struggling with the heat. Melody clung to Taylor's chest so hard, he could hardly breathe. "Miss me?" Johann whispered, and at first Taylor wasn't sure which one of them he was speaking to. He glanced down at Taylor's arms wrapped around Melody, supporting her, and he smirked. Taylor felt ill. "Remember what I said to you, boy?"

Taylor frowned. "Yeah, of course," he grumbled. "And I haven't touched her! So leave us alone!"

"Issat right? And what if I said I didn't believe you?" Johann retorted, eyes narrowed. At the indignant look on Taylor's face, Johann pressed on. "Not that I don't trust _you_. You don't have the spine. But _her_..." He reached to pull her arm away from Taylor's chest, and she let him, her face buried against Taylor's shoulder. "Let's just say you don't know her quite the way I do, hmm? Isn't that right?" She whimpered.

Taylor wasn't sure what Johann was talking about, but he wanted Johann to go away, regardless of whatever punishment it might result in for him later. He swatted Johann's hand away. "Stop it!" he hissed.

Johann ignored him. He continued talking to Melody in a whisper, as if Taylor were not even there. "You know I'm right, don't you?" he said, pulling her away from Taylor. "You're nothing but a whore, aren't you? You missed me, didn't you?" She sobbed, but didn't make any attempt to get closer to Taylor.

Infuriated by the situation and Melody's distress, Taylor tried to pull her away from Johann. Before he could get a good grip on her, Johann's hand shot out and pinned him back to the wall. "What? You don't believe me?" Johann chuckled. "Here, I'll prove it."

To Taylor's horror, Johann's other hand pushed up Melody's dress and slipped under her thigh. She jolted as if she had been stung and bit her lip, shuddering. His hand moved and she whimpered, cheeks flushing. Her breath came in fast, rattling gasps, and she clung to his arm holding Taylor to the wall. Taylor watched, stunned beyond thought or action, as she shivered and groaned, clutching her hand over her mouth to try and block out the sound. She gave another jolt as he abruptly pulled his hand away, leaving her panting and clinging to his arm. Taylor caught a heavy, sweet smell, and Johann smirked. He touched his fingers to the side of Taylor's face and he felt something warm and wet settle on his skin. Taylor was overcome by a surge of nausea as Johann wiped his hand on his pants. "See? What'd I tell you," he laughed. He shrugged Melody off his arm, and Taylor nearly had to jump to catch her before she hit the floor. Taylor pulled Melody to him; she had her eyes closed and her hands over her mouth, and hardly seemed to notice him holding her. Taylor shot Johann a look of pure venom. Johann gave a snort of laughter. "What? You thought just because she's here that anything had changed?" he said. He leaned close. "She's still mine. You go ahead and do whatever you want with her. But don't think she's yours."

Taylor could not think of anything to say to this, could only glare as Johann got up and lumbered to the door. Taylor waited until the sound of his footsteps were replaced with the chirp of insects, and finally tore his eyes away from the door to look at Melody. She wasn't crying anymore, just lying limply against him, her breath shallow and shaking. "Melody?" he whispered, but she did not respond. The reality of what just happened was starting to sink in, and he clutched Melody to him, too overwhelmed to speak or think. Hot tears squeezed out of his eyes and splashed onto the top of her head. " _I'm sorry... I'm sorry..._ " he muttered, breaking off into a sob. Faintly he could hear voices in the dorm, feel eyes gazing at him, but he was hardly aware of them. He felt like he was drowning. He couldn't stop the tears or his gasps for air. _I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry_. She didn't hear, didn't move.

* * *

No physical pain Taylor had ever felt came close to how he felt after that night. It was clear now to him exactly why Johann had let her go. There was no freedom to be found there, no safety; Kaelin's dying words rang in Taylor's ears. The thought was as crushing as the sound of Kaelin's terrified sobs, and Taylor felt he could finally understand just what he meant. Taylor had never felt so completely powerless. _How am I supposed to stop him? How can I keep Melody safe?_ There were no answers – nothing he could possibly do. _It was my fault. I should have done something._ The words ran around endlessly in his head. It was only too easy to blame himself for everything.

For several days, Melody refused to look at him and stopped talking, but she also didn't leave his side. At first Taylor thought that perhaps she also blamed him for what happened, which did nothing to help his mood. It was only when he looked away and avoided her, thinking she wanted him away, that he noticed her looking sad. If he talked with her and told her stories like he did before, she perked up and began to talk again. This only confused him more; wasn't she hurt, wasn't she angry with him? How could she look happy?

When one night he finally broke down and apologized to her once again, he was both surprised and relieved to see her smile, however briefly.

"I'm not mad at you, Tai," she said. "I was just... scared."

Taylor looked down at his hands. "Oh... of him?"

He saw her shake her head out of the corner of his eye. She wrung her hands. "No... I... I was scared that... that you would hate me."

He looked up and saw tears glisten in her eyes. "Why would I hate _you_?" he spluttered in disbelief.

Melody looked more and more uncomfortable, clutching her arms. "I don't know... I thought that... you wouldn't like me now that... that you know I... I'm a..." She couldn't continue; she began to sob.

Taylor scooped her into his arms. "Hey... don't worry about what he said," Taylor muttered. "You're not a... a whore. I still think you're beautiful."

She sniffed and shook her head. "You're lying... that's a lie," she sobbed.

"No, it's true," he said, trying not to laugh. He didn't understand how she couldn't get it. How could she think those things about herself? He took a deep breath and tried to muster the courage to say what was on his mind. And hopefully not sound like an idiot. "I... I said I love you, and I mean it. I'll always love you no matter what, and I'll do whatever I can to protect you. So... so don't think you're a whore. Okay?"

She blinked up at him, rubbing the tears from her eyes. Slowly, she nodded, and he smiled in relief. She leaned in close, and before Taylor could figure out what she was doing, he felt her kiss his cheek. He was so stunned he hardly noticed her lean back and smile at him. The spot she kissed felt warm and his head spun. He looked around, but no one had seen it; it was late and they were sitting outside by the dying fire, while everyone else got ready for bed inside. He could hear the gentle, muffled sound of their voices through the dorm wall. Well, who cared who saw, anyway.

Taylor took her hands in his, and she giggled, toying with his fingers. He felt dizzy at her touch, and had a hard time putting thoughts together. He tried to wrestle something to his mouth to speak. "Can... can I kiss you?" he whispered. He could feel his cheeks burning.

For a second she froze, blinking at him. To his alarm, tears welled up and streamed down her cheeks.

"What's wrong?" he asked, confused and panicked.

She laughed and pulled a hand away to swipe away the tears. "It's just... you asked me," she said. Taylor tilted his head, feeling both embarrassed and somewhat hurt for her. She grabbed his hand and nodded.

Taylor's stomach was twisting into knots. Vaguely he wondered if love was supposed to make you sick like this. He leaned closer to her and could feel his heart beating a frantic rhythm inside his chest. He was so close her breath tickled his nose, and he fought to keep going and not jump up and hide under the porch. For a second he internally panicked over what to do now – where should he kiss? Looking at her lips made him feel as if he had been thrown in a vat of lava. Unable to decide he ended up kissing her right next to her mouth.

She burst into laughter, trying in vain to stifle it against her hand. He chuckled, feeling both elated and somewhat foolish. "S-sorry..." he said, but she shook her head.

"Well... I guess we should go to bed," she said, blushing.

It took Taylor a few moments to process this; when he finally understood where they were and what time it was, he nodded. "Oh... yeah... right..."

Though lately Taylor dreaded the night as much as Melody did, as he watched her fall asleep, he felt some of the uneasiness fade. _She doesn't blame me... she... maybe she... likes me._ In that instant he knew he would do anything for her. _No matter what happens... as long as we're together... we'll get through it._ With that thought in mind, he fell asleep.


	10. Chapter 10

It was late in the summer, and the plants in the fields that Taylor remembered once being so tiny now started to tower over his head. The broad leaves did nothing to block out the cruel heat of the sunlight. Far from getting cooler as the summer wore on, it seemed to be getting hotter – so hot it was sometimes impossible to go into the sun without becoming instantly ill. They looked for any way to keep cool; watering the fields often turned into a game of tag that would leave everyone soaked. This was only a temporary relief, and sometimes it was hard to work at all. Despite the discomfort, it was easy to get used to the continuous heat and become absorbed in the work. Taylor was not used to this sort of weather and often found himself suddenly dizzy from dehydration, and would have to scramble back to the dorm to the water tank Monifa had set up before he passed out.

On a blistering, humid day, Alanis collapsed in the field, shaking, her skin completely dry. Though they pulled her to the shade as fast as they could and even put her in the washbasin to try and cool her down, she didn't wake up. An hour after she collapsed, Taylor was helping Dover and the others bury her beside Kaelin. Tu would not stop screaming and babbling for several hours. Lorel just looked stunned and refused to talk for a week, clinging to Kanya. Alanis' death so close to Kaelin brought on a heavy shock with everyone, but none so much as Johann. Taylor was starting to see a lot more of him, making sure that everyone stayed inside on the hottest days and kept hydrated. As much as Taylor resented seeing more of Johann, he appreciated the break, and even more the distraction in Johann that kept him away from Melody.

Not long after Alanis died, a strange alien Taylor had never seen before visited the farm. Kanya explained that he was a doctor that Johann would call in for annual check-ups, or occasionally for emergencies. Though Johann put on a gentlemanly face around the alien, he looked anxious and disgruntled. Taylor figured that Johann must not like aliens much, either, but his anxiety over the children's health must have overridden whatever feelings he had towards the alien.

After a manner of formalities, the children lined up outside the overseer's cabin to be called in for an exam. Taylor waited at the back of the line with Melody to try and take advantage of the shade behind the building. She looked both curious and nervous about what was going on, and he found himself telling her another story to distract her. When the children entered and left the cabin one by one relatively unscathed, Melody seemed to relax a bit more.

Finally it was Taylor's turn, and he entered the cabin apprehensively, remembering the recent stint he had spent here. The alien was humanoid, tall and thin, and had a very tired, droopy reptilian face. Johann leaned against the cabinets with his arms crossed. Taylor looked from one to the other, and wasn't feeling much better about the whole thing when the alien told him to remove his clothes. Taylor glanced over at Johann, who shot him a very pointed look. Feeling increasingly resentful, he pulled off his sweat-soaked shirt and pants until he was standing in his underwear. Johann cleared his throat, and, grumbling, Taylor pulled that off as well. He tried to stand perfectly still and not feel too mortified as the alien examined him, poking painfully at bruises and welts he thought he had forgotten about. The alien pulled out a number of objects that he used to look in his ears and at his eyes, and even a small device with a screen that showed a picture of his insides that Taylor was sure Cale would have died to look at. While the alien did all this he talked to Johann in a slow, drawling voice.

"Should be more careful with this one," he said. "Real thin. Sick easily. Looks overworked. Muscle degeneration."

Johann snorted at this. "Yeah, he was sick about a month ago but he's tougher than he looks. He don't need special treatment, he'll build up."

Taylor tried not to look at Johann and instead just imagined his hate radiating out and stabbing Johann in the face. It distracted him enough to ignore the alien poking around more sensitive areas, at least. The alien shook his head and sighed. "Should be more careful, Peters. Like machines, break down if pushed too hard." He stepped away to tap at another device, and Taylor scrambled for his clothes. Johann did not look at all happy to be lectured, and he shooed Taylor away. Taylor was only too happy to oblige, and he pulled on his clothes and left as fast as he could.

Melody was waiting alone outside. He smiled at her and she gave him a small smile back. For a moment he hesitated; he did not want Melody to go in there alone, but knew he would not be allowed inside with her. He watched her go inside nervously, and decided to wait outside for her to come out.

Several minutes went by while Taylor listened to the muffled voices inside. He toyed with the loose thread on his shirt, cracked his elbows and shoulders, shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He didn't dare to try and look in the window in case Melody was getting the same sort of examination he had. Several more minutes went by and Taylor began to feel there was something wrong. The voices inside had died, and had now grown louder. Taylor strained to hear what they were talking about. There was a confusion of movement inside, and Taylor heard a very familiar voice scream. Taylor froze. _Melody?! What's going on?_ he thought wildly. There were a number of sharp thuds and Johann's voice shouting in surprise, and Melody suddenly burst out of the cabin. Before Taylor knew it she had both arms around him, tears streaming down her face. It took Taylor only a second to realize she was still naked, and he felt both oddly embarrassed and panicked. "What happened?!" he asked, trying to free his arms from her grip. She just shook her head.

Johann stormed out of the cabin, the flustered doctor peeking out after him. Johann stomped up to Melody and reached out to grab her. Without thinking, Taylor wrapped his arms around her and turned her away so Johann couldn't reach her. Infuriated, Johann seized Taylor's arm instead. "Let go of her, boy!" Johann snapped.

"No! Tell me what happened!" Taylor shouted. He wasn't strong enough to break off Johann's grip and hold on to Melody at the same time, and settled for just trying to wrench himself away.

"None of your business! Now give her to me!" Johann attempted to rip Melody away and she started to scream, making Taylor feel as if the blood in his veins had turned to ice. He held on tight to Melody, adding his weight to hers.

"What's wrong?" Taylor cried to her. "What does he want?"

Melody just wailed louder and collapsed, pulling Taylor down with her. The doctor stood back, watching, looking torn. Johann stood looking down at them, seething. Taylor glanced up at them and was surprised to see a look of horror and desperation on Johann's face that he had never seen before. Taylor just felt more confused and scared, and he clutched onto her as she howled. He could feel the sound through his chest, rattling his heart.

Johann paced, cursing. "You want to keep it? _Fine!_ " he yelled. "But I want nothing more to do with it, or you! Go ahead and let it kill you for all I care!" He stormed back towards the doctor, pushing the alien back inside and slamming the door.

Once they were back inside, Melody scrambled away from Taylor's grip and burst towards the dorm. Taylor sat, stunned, before running after her. "Wait! Melody!" He vaulted up the steps of the dorm and wrenched open the door. Melody was curled up facing the corner, holding her arms and sobbing.

Taylor fell to his knees next to her, hurt and confused and scared. "Melody? What is it?" he said quietly.

Melody sniffed and scrubbed at her face with the back of her hand. She glanced back at him, eyes red and puffy. She took a deep, rattling breath. "I'm pregnant," she whimpered. "They wanted to kill it. He was going to kill it... he... my..." She broke into wracking sobs.

Taylor felt as if time had stopped. This was too difficult to comprehend. He wanted to scream, wanted to throw up, wanted to cry. He sat back and stared at her. She looked so tiny and fragile to him; he couldn't imagine that inside her was another life growing, when she had hardly stopped growing herself. _This can't be happening,_ he thought. _What am I supposed to do? She can't be... this can't be..._ but he knew there was no mistaking what had just happened, knew it was possible, knew it was something Johann was capable of. He just didn't want to believe it, didn't want it to happen. But he also knew that he had to believe it, had to set aside whatever he felt or thought to address _her_ , _now_. He pulled the blanket off his sleeping mat and wrapped it around her shoulders. "I won't let him touch you," he muttered when she began to calm down. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat. " _Either_ of you. You... you'll see. It'll... be okay," he said. In his heart he prayed he could make those words be true.

* * *

News of Melody's pregnancy spread quickly, and everyone seemed to have an opinion about it. The girls were both horrified and sympathetic. The guys were intimidated and awkward. While no one said what they truly thought while Melody was around, occasionally Taylor would hear whispers about it.

"You should have let him kill it," Dover muttered to him one day while Melody helped Kanya do laundry.

"You think I don't know how they do that?" Taylor bristled.

Dover just crossed his arms and gave him a hard look. "Look at her, Taylor," he said, nodding her way. "Do you really think that girl can have a _baby_? Out _here_? If it doesn't die first, it's going to kill her."

"You don't know that! She'll be fine!" Taylor retorted.

"How are you going to take care of it? Do you know anything about babies?"

Taylor stared at Dover and glanced over at Melody. "Well... we'll figure it out together, when it's here."

Dover grinned and shook his head. He clapped Taylor on the shoulder. "You're fucking crazy," he laughed. "Good luck, you're gonna need it." He walked away towards the tool shed, leaving Taylor to stew over his thoughts. Taylor watched Melody struggle to throw a towel over the clothesline above her head. He knew Dover was right... he really knew next to nothing about this. Pregnancy was something he had only read about very clinically in a textbook, and all the facts and figures did not seem to mean much in the face of the reality. He knew enough about it to know that supporting Melody through the pregnancy was going to be hard enough. It was so difficult and bizarre to imagine her having a child that he could not even begin to think about what to do once the child was born. For a moment he was overwhelmed by the magnitude and the insanity of the whole thing. More than ever he hated Johann for what he had done. Though he wanted to think better, he knew Johann would be a man of his word, and would have nothing to do with the baby. In his heart, in a small way, he wondered if what he had heard whispered wasn't right – that he should have let the doctor take the baby out, and all the trouble with it. The thought just made him sick. _No – never_ , Taylor thought, shaking his head. _I won't let her be hurt any more. I don't care what it takes._

* * *

Taylor began to discover soon enough how difficult it was going to be. Though he didn't catch Melody throwing up in the morning anymore, she would become tired and sore quickly, and had to spend a lot of time resting. This meant that Taylor had to work twice as hard to cover for her. She also was constantly hungry to the point of tears, and Taylor found himself sharing his already meager portions with her. Though it left him with the constant gnawing ache he remembered from his first weeks here, he encouraged himself with the thought that she probably needed it more than him, anyway. Her stomach had started to push out, which only cemented the reality of the situation more in everyone's minds. Taylor didn't hear whispers anymore; he even noticed that Dover went out of his way to make sure Taylor and Melody were left alone, something Taylor was both relieved and suspicious about. More suspicious was that Dover would sometimes find things for her that were ordinarily impossible to get. When she began to develop cravings for odd foods, he would show up with a bit of whatever it was she wanted at the time and dart away before Taylor could ask him questions. Melody was delighted and thought that Dover had somehow turned a corner, but Taylor could not shake his image of Dover so easily. _What is he up to? Where is he getting this stuff, and why?_

Taylor's chance to find out came late one humid night at the end of the summer. Though Melody fell asleep quickly now, Taylor was lying awake with his eyes closed, trying to will himself to sleep. It wasn't working; his thoughts kept returning to various concerns he couldn't shake off. He tried to listen for the sounds of the insects outside to dull himself asleep. Instead he heard the very faint padding of footsteps and the soft _whumph_ of the screen door across the dorm being carefully closed. Taylor stirred, sitting upright to peek around the corner and glance at Dover's sleeping mat. It was empty. Everyone else was asleep and hadn't noticed. As carefully and quietly as he could, Taylor got up and tiptoed to the door, opening it just enough to slip out.

When he got outside he did not see Dover anywhere. This was not unusual, as all the lights were out and he could hardly see as it was. He wandered around for several minutes, searching for anything out of place, anywhere Dover might have gone. He tried the kitchen door, but it was locked. _Didn't think it would be that easy_ , Taylor thought. As he walked towards the porch, he noticed a faint light in the crack between the basement doors. He tried pulling at the handle, and was surprised to find it unlocked. He was both frightened and exhilarated by the discovery, and after a brief debate, decided to investigate. He pulled open one of the doors a crack and slipped past it onto the stairs leading down into the basement. He snuck down to the bottom and looked around. It was dark and cold, except for a light in the corner, mostly blocked off by shelving. Taylor recognized the location as the spot Jareth had brought him after he passed out from hunger that day months ago. He could hear faint voices whispering, and he slowly stepped closer, ears straining to hear.

"I don't want to do this anymore," a voice whispered, one Taylor recognized as Dover.

"Why not?" another voice replied – a soft, simpering voice Taylor recognized as Corinne. He froze. _What's she doing here? What are they doing?_ "Don't you like it?"

"I... I don't know," Dover replied. There was an anxiety in his voice that Taylor was not used to hearing. "I mean... it was nice at first... but..."

"But what? You don't like me anymore?"

"I – I just don't think – think that it's – _someone's going to find out_. Taylor keeps asking me questions. About where I'm getting that stuff."

"So? Do you not want him to find out?"

"No! I mean... Jesus! If anyone knew... if _he_ knew..." Taylor was close now. If he peeked around the corner of the shelves he could see them across the room. Corinne was sitting on the chair in a nightgown, leaning on her hands as if bored. Dover had turned away and made a swipe for a parcel on the mattress. "I'm serious. Forget it, just forget it. Thanks for the memories and all that."

Faster than Taylor would have believed possible, Corinne was on her feet and behind Dover, wrapping her arms around him. He froze like a fly caught in a web. Taylor had to really strain to hear what she was whispering. "But what are you going to do without me, hmm?" she said, nudging her cheek against his. Dover looked down at his feet. "I was there for you. I listened. I gave you whatever you wanted. I've protected you and your friends. And this is how you repay me? Do you really want _him_ to find out? I can tell him." Her hands snaked under his shirt, and a pained look crossed his face. Her lips brushed his ear and Dover shuddered. "I won't let you go," she said, so quietly Taylor could hardly hear it.

Taylor stood looking around the corner, too stunned to look away, trying to comprehend what he was seeing. He hadn't seen Dover look so anxious and frightened since Kaelin died, and he felt a painful chill seize his heart and prickle down his back that had nothing to do with the cold basement air. Dover did not move or react to Corinne as she pulled the parcel out of his hand and set it aside. She turned his face towards hers and kissed him. Taylor suddenly felt that he did not want to see anymore, wanted to get as far away as he could. He jerked away from the shelf. He was so shocked and bewildered that he knocked a jar off the shelf and it crashed against the cement. Taylor held his breath but knew the damage had been done; he turned and ran for the basement door. He hadn't gotten far when he felt someone seize the back of his shirt and throw him against a shelf. He heard the rattle of boxes and jars as he was pinned to the shelf. Taylor blinked in surprise at a very angry, very frightened Dover.

" _How much did you see?_ " Dover hissed, his fingers gripping Taylor's shoulders so hard that he suppressed a yelp of pain.

"I-I'm sorry!" Taylor spluttered. "I... I didn't..."

The look on Taylor's face was enough of an answer, and Dover shook him against the shelf. " _Shut up!_ " he snapped, slapping his hand over Taylor's mouth. Taylor was too stunned and frightened to even attempt to shake Dover off. "If you tell _anyone_ about this, I swear to God I'll kill you. Do you hear me?" Taylor just stared, and Dover gave him a renewed slam against the shelf. " _I said do you hear me?_ "

Taylor nodded vigorously and Dover pulled away. Taylor shot Dover one frightened look before bolting for the stairs, and back out into the warm night air. He didn't stop until he was back in the dorm next to Melody. She stirred as he settled next to her, heart pounding and sweat dripping into his eyes.

"Tai? Whassa matter?" she whispered groggily.

He stared at her for a moment and shook his head. "It's... it's nothing. Bad dream. Go back to sleep," he muttered back.

She gazed at him in confusion for a moment, then closed her eyes again. Taylor closed his eyes too, but this time he didn't even bother trying to will himself to sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

True to his word, Taylor did not mention anything of what he saw in the basement. Dover acted as if nothing happened, and for the most part, Taylor tried to treat Dover the same way he had. He didn't have time to think about it, anyway. Between Melody and work there was more than enough to keep him occupied without dwelling on it. The harvest had begun and with it, the labor-intensive process of harvesting all the plants and hanging them to dry in the curing barn. The furnace was kept going night and day, making the barn a retreat when the weather began turning colder as fall set in. There was little to do after the harvest, and the children had to entertain themselves.

Sports were one thing that everyone loved to do. Hamid had made a ball out of some old, tough fabric that they would kick around. Their games would become very competitive, and Taylor jumped at the chance to play against Dover's gang, though with only Hamid and Kanya as his teammates, the odds were almost always uneven. Taylor had to admire his teammates, though; Hamid always rose to the challenge whenever they played, showing a determination and energy Taylor never saw outside of the game. Kanya, of course, was her aggressive self and took a particular pleasure in games that involved tackling. Though he wouldn't admit it, Taylor enjoyed playing with them, actually felt as if he could have fun and forget about everything else that was going on.

Taylor also knew that everyone, particularly Dover, enjoyed music. The children had fashioned some crude instruments that they would use to create tunes: drums, guitars, flutes. Dover had taught everyone songs that he either remembered from childhood, or made up. Since Dover had grown up in a Christian family, most of the songs were religious in nature. It wasn't the type of music Taylor would normally listen to, but it was engaging and brought everyone together, even if they weren't really considering the words.

So even though the scenery didn't change and things didn't change, they were able to hold onto something outside of work, something to give them hope and a feeling of humanity. Taylor began to understand that this was how the children had managed to survive all this time without breaking down completely.

As the leaves fell from the trees in the distance, Taylor realized that, though he had no idea what particular day it was, it must be close to his birthday. He was turning 15. He hadn't expected to be here this long, to experience a birthday here, but somehow time was going by without him. He realized he had stopped thinking about home altogether, stopped thinking about his family, and felt a pang of guilt. When had he settled in here? When had all of this become so commonplace? How many more birthdays would he spend here? Taylor shook his head; it was too much to think about. He had learned not to think. It was too much to get through life day to day without worrying about the future and the passage of time.

Autumn progressed towards winter, and they packed down the leaves from the barn into crates. Things were busy for a while as the crates were sold one by one, until all the evidence of their labor those past months were gone. Taylor began to feel like the bare trees in the distance as winter sat in – stagnant. Worse than the inactivity was the growing cold. The weather grew fickle and stormy, and it rained more often than it did not, trapping them inside for days at a time, huddled around the stove. In this way Taylor came to learn a lot more about everyone's backgrounds: parents and siblings, old homes, memories of Earth and the day their lives had changed forever, when they lost their freedom. Most, like Taylor, had had it stolen from them. Some, like Kurt, had sold themselves out of desperation for their families. Some had been simply born into it. Taylor eventually learned that Melody had never known Earth, had been born in space, in a brothel. She had been sheltered and prized for her looks and sold as soon as she went through puberty. She didn't talk about it much, and in a way, Taylor was glad she didn't. He wasn't sure if she had made it to a better place – but then again, most of them hadn't.

Though they spent a lot of time inside, they were not entirely safe from the weather, and Taylor began to notice that winter here was just as harsh as summer. Though they were all given jackets to wear, it was hardly enough to keep out the cold. Dover's gang occasionally broke into the barn at night to make use of the furnace. The only one who did not seem to mind the cold much was Melody, who was almost always hot now that her pregnancy had progressed. When one day she pressed Taylor's hand to her stomach and he felt something move underneath his palm, he felt dazed with both awe and anxiety.

Even as new life was approaching, the struggle to survive continued for all of them. The harsh weather brought on a variety of illnesses, some short, others more serious. What began as a mild cough in Tu progressed at an alarming rate, a chilling reminder of what Taylor had gone through only a few months earlier. The big difference was how much younger and more fragile Tu was, and the infection in his lungs raged out of control until he finally could breathe no more. Digging through the half-frozen dirt in wet, gloomy weather to bury Tu was one of the most heart-breaking experiences Taylor had gone through, and for days it was hard for everyone to recover. Lorel was taken away to live inside the house to avoid the same fate, though Taylor felt a pang of pity to know what Lorel might have to witness living there. Though they could not have known it then, the change in location was unnecessary – just two months later, an epidemic tore through the manor, taking both Yve and Lorel with it.

Though their numbers had shrunk, and the freezing weather was almost unbearable, they tried their best to make it through each day. In the dead of winter, they celebrated Christmas – a holiday that Taylor had celebrated with Cale every year, though Tek did not really understand the meaning behind it. Even Johann begrudgingly accepted the holiday, and they all enjoyed rare treats: red meat and sweets. In comparison to what Taylor had grown used to eating for months, it really did feel like a holiday. Though they had nothing to give to each other, they sang carols and laughed and shared old Christmas stories and memories of people they had lost. It reminded Taylor faintly of holidays he spent with his parents as a child, and it was a bittersweet happiness to celebrate the holiday here, in such entirely different circumstances.

With the beginning of the new year, the cycle began over again, and the fields they had spent all winter preparing were now filled with thousands of seeds. The work was tedious, but it was a welcome distraction from the cold – and, for Taylor, from Melody's impending due date. She had made it through the winter, her stomach swelled, and Taylor knew the time must be drawing close.

* * *

"What do you think you'll call it?" Taylor asked one afternoon. Melody was sitting on the steps of the kitchen watching everyone wind down from work. She leaned back to take some weight off her stomach.

"Um... well..." she said, chewing her lip. "I hadn't really thought about it." She glanced up at him and smiled. "Why don't _you_ name it, Tai?"

He blushed and looked away. "I don't know..."

"Why not? I like _my_ name," she said, giggling.

"It's different... you know... it's _your_ baby..."

"But I wouldn't have made it this far without you," she pointed out. Taylor could think of nothing to say to this. She leaned forward and hugged onto his arm. "Think about it?"

Taylor sighed and smiled. "Okay... I'll think about it. But you have to let me know what you think!" She nodded and rested her head against his shoulder. He glanced down at the curve of her stomach underneath her dress. "Are you nervous?"

She blinked up at him and shook her head. "No... we're together, right?"

"Right."

"And you'll help me with the baby, right?"

"Of course."

"Then I'm not scared at all."

Taylor looked down at his feet and wished he could feel the same way.

* * *

His anxiety only grew each day. It didn't help that Melody was having a number of sharp pains that would come and go, spiking fear in Taylor every time she clutched his arm. When one day Melody fell to her knees, water pooling around her feet, he found he no longer felt fear. Without realizing it he ran to the first person he could think of. Taylor burst into the kitchen, and Monifa took one look at him before throwing down her towel and swearing.

Jareth moved Melody as quickly and carefully as he could to the bed in the overseer's cabin. For several minutes Taylor was kept busy darting around collecting blankets, towels, water, and anything else Monifa insisted on. When there was nothing left to do but wait, and Monifa conceded that there was no tearing Taylor away, she allowed him to sit next to Melody and hold her hand. As much as Taylor had tried to prepare himself for this day, this moment, he felt like he wasn't ready for it at all. Every hiss or gasp of pain struck him as well, and he tried to keep talking to her like he always had, to try and take her mind off the pain.

"Tell me more... about Earth..." she said, clutching onto his hand so hard her knuckles went white. Taylor tried not to show that this was hurting him in any way. "Tell me about your mother."

It was hard to think about anything else in this situation, but he searched through his faint memories for anything to tell her. "Well I... don't remember her well... but I remember she was really pretty. She was an artist, and I used to watch her paint. She used to paint these really beautiful landscapes... more beautiful than anything you'd ever see, even if it wasn't what was really there." Melody smiled, and her grip relaxed. "That was just the way she saw things. She was Japanese." At the quizzical look on Melody's face, he explained, "They were a people on Earth, who lived on this string of islands. They had their own language and everything." He gazed down at her hand, lost in thought – memories he had tried hardest to forget about. "She... she used to call me something... Takeshi...? No... Takashi."

"Ta-ka-shi? That's funny," Melody giggled, then cringed.

Taylor waited for the pain to subside, and her grip on his hand to loosen. He heard footsteps on the stairs to the right and looked up at Monifa.

"How's she doin'?" Monifa asked, stepping around Taylor to take a look at Melody.

"I think it's getting worse," Taylor said as Melody whimpered and grabbed hold of his wrist. He could feel the blood draining out of his fingers. "Is it supposed to take this long? It's been hours."

"What, you waited nine months and you can't wait a few hours?" she laughed.

Taylor glanced out the window at the setting sun. When he last saw it, it had been much higher up. "It's been more than a few!" He dropped his voice. "I just want to know how much longer she has to go through this."

Monifa rolled her eyes and patted him on the back. "Oh don't worry, it'll be here soon enough."  

Taylor blushed and tried to gently pry Melody's hand off his wrist. "Do you... know a lot about this stuff?"

Monifa shrugged. "Well, sorta. I helped deliver babies on the colony, before I ended up here. 'Course, I was a lot younger then. But that doesn't mean I don't remember the basics."

"The basics," Taylor repeated, not feeling too reassured.

Melody finally let go, but she did not look any better. She writhed and groaned, eyes clamped shut.

"You okay, girl?" Monifa said, leaning on the bed.

" _N— no!_ " Melody managed to bite out between her teeth. "I – _augh_ – I think -- it's..." Her words were cut off by a loud groan.

Monifa's gaze snapped to Taylor, who jerked in surprise. "Go get Nekane and Kanya, quick!"

Taylor jumped out of his chair and bolted for the door. He did not have to go far; the two girls were sitting beside the fire with the others, and they scrambled out of their spots when they saw him round the corner. He followed them back to the cabin, where he could hear Melody screaming in pain through the wall. The two girls leapt inside – and slammed the door in his face.

"Hey!" He pounded on the door.

"Sorry, girls only!" he heard Kanya call through the door.

" _What?_ " He tugged on the handle, but Kanya was holding it shut. "This isn't funny!" He felt something settle on his shoulder, and he whipped around to see Dover standing behind him.

"Come on, let's go wait over here," Dover said, waving towards the dorm.

Taylor wrenched his shoulder away. "No! I said I'd be there with her!" he cried, kicking the door.

Dover wrapped his arm around Taylor's and began to tug him away. "Yeah, and you've done well, great job, but trust me – don't want to see this."

Taylor hesitated. "But – she –"

Dover seized the opportunity to drag Taylor further away. "The girls got it covered, come on – sit down." He pushed Taylor back and he collapsed on the stair to the dorm. He heard Melody cry again and cast an anxious glance over the cabin. Dover sat next to him and leaned heavily on his shoulder. "Let's be honest here," he said. "You aren't gonna be much help like this. Deep breaths. Breaaaathe." Dover took a very exaggerated breath in, held it, and blew it out with a sound like air escaping a balloon.

Taylor glanced at Dover and felt drained. He wrung his hands and tapped his feet on the stair.

"Relax, girls have been having babies since the dawn of time, you know," Dover said.

"I know, I know, but she's not just any girl," Taylor sighed, leaning on his knees. "What if something goes wrong?"

"You're right; she's _not_ just any girl. If you ask me, she's made it through much worse than this."

Taylor blinked up at him. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

Dover gave a slow shrug. "I don't care about _you_. Your anxiety is just making _me_ anxious, and it's getting on my nerves."

Despite himself, Taylor smiled and let out a deep breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Yeah, right – sorry."

Dover grinned. "So, you've thought of a name by now, right?"

Taylor blanched.

* * *

Though Dover kept him rooted to the spot and distracted, every minute that went by felt as agonizing to Taylor as having teeth pulled. By the time he finally heard an unfamiliar wail and was allowed in to see Melody, he was faint with nerves. He just about keeled over on the spot when he stepped into the cabin and saw the amount of blood on the sheets and towels. Melody was propped up on a stack of pillows, head lolled to the side, half asleep. Taylor froze when he saw the bundle she held to her chest.

An exhausted Nekane, Kanya, and Monifa filed out as he came in, Monifa giving him a sharp slap on the shoulder that almost sent him to the floor. At the sound of the screen door clapping against the doorframe, Melody stirred and blinked up at Taylor. It was dark now and he could just barely see her face in the faint light streaming from the window. She gave a weak smile and gestured to him to come closer.

"It's a boy," she said as Taylor pulled up a chair next to her. Taylor craned his head to peer into the bundle. He could just see the tiny form of a baby with a round face and a fuzz of almost translucent blonde hair. Though he had been washed, he was still a bit red and flushed. The boy was fast asleep against Melody's breast.

"Woah... it's so tiny!" Taylor said. Melody giggled, and he felt a bit foolish that this was the first thing he could think of to say. "Can I... can I touch it?" Melody nodded, and he reached a tentative hand out to brush the top of the boy's head. The baby stirred and cooed in its sleep. Taylor felt light-headed with awe. He glanced at Melody, whose eyes were drooping. "Are you okay?"

She gave a slight nod. "Yeah... just tired," she yawned. "Did you think of anything?"

Taylor blushed. "No... not yet."

She glanced down at the baby. "Well... what about your friend... from Earth?"

"Huh? Cale?" Melody nodded. Taylor frowned and shook his head. "No, no way!"

She shrugged. "Well... something like that?"

Taylor sighed and leaned on his elbow. He couldn't think of many names that were similar. Cameron? Christopher? They seemed a bit too sophisticated for the tiny thing sleeping in Melody's arms. The sound of Melody's name in his head reminded him of another name he'd heard. "O.. dee... Cody?" he thought aloud. Melody brightened, but Taylor already regretted saying this out loud. _Cody? What kind of name is that?_ he thought, internally smacking his face with his palm. "Err, wait, forget I said that..."

Melody laughed. "No, I like it!"

Taylor blinked in surprise. "Huh? But..."

"I think it's cute! Melody and Cody." She burst into a fit of giggles, inspiring a coo of protest from the newborn at the noise.

Taylor felt a mixture of embarrassment and pleasure. "Okay... well... as long as you like it."

"I think it's perfect," she said, and he smiled. For a moment she gazed at him, and slowly, her smile began to fade. She turned to look out the window.

Seeing the change, Taylor leaned closer and said, "What is it?"

"... He's not going to come see him, is he?"

It only took Taylor a second to realize who she was talking about. "Do you really want him to?"

Melody stared out into the night for a long moment. She shook her head and tears began to drift down her cheeks.

Taylor took her hand and squeezed it softly. "Hey... I told you... I won't let him touch either of you. He didn't want to be a part of this and you shouldn't waste your tears on him," he said. He reached up to brush the tears off her cheeks that she could not reach.

She squeezed his hand back and gave a long, exhausted sigh. "I'm just tired... so tired..." she whispered, eyes drooping. There was a pause as she started to drift away. "Tai?"

The stress of the day had left him drained as well, and he leaned down to rest on his arms next to her. "Hmm?"

"I love you."

Taylor stared at her for a long moment as he tried to take this in. He felt like he had just swallowed something very warm. "I... I love you, too," he murmured. She gave a soft smile and her head fell against the pillow. He watched her sleep for a while, listening to the slow, steady intake and exhale of her breath. Before he knew it, he had fallen asleep next to her, her words still echoing in his head.


	12. Chapter 12

Though the baby was healthy and alert, Melody did not improve much over the next couple days. She was too weak and tired to leave the cabin. Taylor made any excuse to visit her. When he came in, she always looked pale and exhausted, staring out the window oblivious to the baby's cries. She would brighten up and become more alert when Taylor entered the room, but lost steam fast, and would eventually lapse into silence. He did everything he could to encourage her to eat, to get up and move around the cabin. He helped her figure out how to hold the baby, how to burp it, how to make a diaper and change it. Often she did not have the energy to do anything except feed the baby, and Taylor found himself constantly running back and forth between work and the baby's cries. He started sleeping on the floor of the cabin to be closer to the two. After a few days of this with no improvement in Melody's condition, Taylor fashioned a sling to carry the baby with him.

The first time he brought Cody outside, it drew a crowd. Dover leaned in close to peer at the baby's face. The boy blinked his round, blue eyes, eyes roving around Dover's face, a slip of drool running down his cheek. Taylor could already feel a strain on his neck where the sling ran around to his back. "Woah, girls sure are amazing, huh?" Dover said, glancing back at Jareth looking over his shoulder. "If I had to push something _that_ big out of my ass, I'd be dead for sure."

Kurt burst into a fit of laughter. Kanya slugged Dover in the ribs.

"He's quiet," Jareth said. He held out his hand under Cody's, enormous in comparison. Cody's went cross-eyed trying to look at Jareth's hand, patting it with his tiny palm.

"He's quiet _now_ ," Taylor groaned.

"So why do _you_ have it?" Ric asked. "What's wrong with Melody?"

Taylor wrapped his hands around Cody and hefted him up to try and take some weight off his neck. "There's nothing wrong with her... she's just... tired."

Ric gave a skeptical grunt and turned away. Kurt started making faces trying to get Cody's attention. Cody stared at Kurt in stunned bewilderment. Kanya crossed her arms and glared at Ric's back. "What's wrong with that? Why _wouldn't_ she be tired?"

"It's not _Taylor_ _'s_ baby... shouldn't she be taking care of him?" Jareth countered.

"Well the guy who _should_ be taking care of him doesn't give a shit!" Dover snapped. "If it wasn't for Taylor the kid wouldn't even be here! So leave it alone. Taylor's just helping out till she gets better, right?" He glanced at Taylor.

Taylor blinked down at the baby, who smiled and cooed at Kurt. "Yeah... yeah, that's right."

"Alright, so nothing else to see here." Dover clapped, and Kurt, Jareth, and Kanya drifted away. Dover waited until they were out of earshot and turned back to Taylor. "Seriously... is she okay?" he said.

Taylor stared down at Cody, his fingers grazing Cody's tiny hands. Cody latched onto one of Taylor's fingers with his toothless gums and drooled.

Dover took Taylor's silence for an answer and sighed. "She'll come around. Don't push yourself too hard. He's not your responsibility alone. They're right about that."

"If I don't take care of him, who will?" Taylor muttered. "I swore I would. She's counting on me."

"Then for your sake, I hope she gets it together soon," Dover said.

* * *

Later that night, Taylor sat next to Melody's bed while she fed Cody. He picked at his own meal which, for once, he was not interested in. "Melody," he said, and she glanced up at him. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

Melody stared at him for a moment, and shook her head.

"Because I feel like... there's something wrong."

Melody looked away. "It's hurting," she murmured. "Since he was born, I've been hurting. Not just my body. But here." She held a hand to her chest. "I don't know why... I'm just... tired, and sad." She glanced down at Cody. "It's like... I know I'm not going to be able to stay here with him."

"Don't say that," Taylor said. "You'll be okay. You're just... you're just a little burnt out."

Melody shook her head. "It's more than that... it's... I don't know... Tai, I'm scared... I'm so scared..." She started to cry. Tears splashed down on Cody's head, who broke off and began to wail. Melody buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

Taylor reached over and pulled Cody away, propping the baby over his shoulder and patting it on the back. The sound of both Cody and Melody crying at the same time was agonizing. "Melody... don't cry... it'll be alright... you'll see," he said, voice cracking. He felt like crying, himself.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Melody sobbed. There was a loud _urp_ and Cody stopped crying. Taylor passed Cody back to Melody, who took him reluctantly.

"He needs you... _I_ need you," Taylor said. "Please... please don't cry anymore."

Melody sniffed and cradled Cody against her chest, who yawned. She couldn't help but smile.

* * *

Melody steadily improved over the next couple days. She spent more time taking care of Cody, and began to react to him more, singing and talking to him. Taylor felt relieved to be able to spend a little more time on his own, and spread out his visits to allow Melody more time alone with Cody. He was even able to start sleeping in the dorm again. Though he thought things were getting better and Melody should be able to leave the cabin soon, he began to realize, through the glimpses of his visits, that Melody was not getting better. Though her mood had improved, her health was deteriorating. What at first was just a mild fever progressed, until one day he noticed blood on the sheets. Melody tried to hide it, but he could tell from the way she shook and the sour odor in the air that she had been sick – very sick.

"It's nothing," she coughed, trying to kick the sheets down to cover up the stains.

"It's _not_ nothing," Taylor said. "Let me see." He traced the spots of blood back up to her hips. Taylor felt his stomach knot. "How... how long has this been happening?"

Melody started to tremble, clutching a sleeping Cody to her chest. "For... a few days. I didn't want you to know. I thought... maybe it'd go away."

" _Melody_..." Taylor groaned, and he saw tears sparkle in her eyes. He pressed his palm against her forehead, and down to the back of her neck. "You're burning up. I thought you were feeling better." She shook her head. Taylor bit his lip. He felt like he might be sick to his stomach. "Look... let me take Cody. If you're sick..."

"No!" Melody cried, clutching Cody tighter to his chest. Cody gave a disgruntled moan. "He needs me! I'm fine!"

"I want to go get help, but I can't just leave him here," Taylor said, holding out his hands. "Come on, you can't take care of him like this." He reached over and gently pried the baby out of Melody's hands. Melody began to cry. "I'll be back. Don't move." He turned and ran out of the cabin.

Taylor burst into the kitchen, skidding on the tiled floor. Monifa looked up in surprise from an overflowing pile of dishes in the sink, suds spilling out over the rim and onto her apron. She took in the look on Taylor's face with the baby clutched in his arm and frowned. "What happened?"

Taylor told her everything he could about Melody's condition. To his dismay, Monifa's face grew darker with every word. When he had finished, she held her hand to her mouth and shook her head. "I was afraid of this..."

"What? Do you know what it is?"

Monifa sighed and grabbed a towel, trying to scrub the soap off her clothes. "Infection. Used to see it all the time on the colony."

Taylor shifted Cody's weight to his other arm. Cody burbled and stared up at him. "Can... can you fix it?"

Monifa tossed the towel onto the counter. "Me? No. She needs medicine. She needs a _doctor_."

He felt himself growing cold. _How am I supposed to get that?_ "What... what if she doesn't have the medicine?"

Monifa gazed unfocused into the bubbles in the sink. "She dies."

Time stopped. He felt Cody start to slip out of his arms and Taylor jerked back to reality to catch him. "I... I have to talk to him... he _has_ to help..."

Monifa looked up in surprise. She opened her mouth to protest, but at the look of horror and desolation on his face, she sighed and held out her arms to Cody. "Here, give him to me. I'll watch him." Taylor swallowed and nodded, passing Cody over to Monifa. Monifa cradled the boy in her arms and tossed her head towards the door on the right wall. "Take that door; it's the first door on the right. Make sure to knock first, though I don't think it will make much difference."

Taylor tried to say thank you, but his mouth felt dry and he couldn't find the words. He nodded again and stepped towards the swinging door. As he stepped into the hall, he realized he had never actually been inside the house before. The beautifully polished wood floors and wainscoting, the intricate wallpaper and glass wall fixtures, nearly stunned him out of his mission. He approached a dark, heavy wooden door. He felt his courage start to leave him, and thought of Melody, alone and sick, _dying_. He rapped his knuckles against the door.

" _Yeah, what is it?_ " that distinctive, gritty voice called through the door.

Taylor cleared his throat. "It's... it's me, sir," he said.

" _What's that?_ "

"Taylor, sir!" he said, a little louder. There was a pause, and he heard the thud of footsteps approaching the door. He took a step back as the door was thrown open.

Johann shot him a skeptical look. "What are you doing in here?" he grumbled. "What do you want?"

Taylor tried not to quaver under Johann's intense stare. "It's... Melody, sir."

"Yeah? What about her?" Johann turned away and moved back towards his desk, which was covered in papers. He sank into the high-backed chair and pulled a stack of papers towards him.

Taylor waited in the doorway, not wanting to get closer to Johann than he had to. He glanced around the office. "She's sick." When after several seconds he did not get any sort of response, he added, "Really sick."

"Is that right?" Johann remarked. He began to scribble on a form. "What's wrong with her?"

 _Aside from having your child?_ Taylor thought bitterly, but he had long since learned to keep his thoughts to himself, particularly if he wanted to stay on Johann's good side. "We think she... has an infection. She's bleeding. Shaking."

Johann snorted and flipped the form over to start on another. "So? What do you want me to do about it?"

Taylor clenched his fists. "She needs a doctor, sir. She needs medicine. _Real_ medicine."

This got Johann to look up. For a moment he just stared at Taylor, and he began to chuckle. "And I guess you want _me_ to take care of that?"

Taylor set his jaw and tried not to look away.

"I already told you," Johann said, pointing a fountain pen towards Taylor. "I'm having nothing to do with that cunt or her whelp. She can go ahead and die for all I care... hopefully she takes the brat with her."

Taylor was shaking with rage and desperation. It took everything he had not to lunge at Johann. " _Master... please..._ "

"Don't give me that bullshit." Johann had taken up writing again. "You might be one of the best workers I got left, but I don't owe you or the girl nothing. You brought this on her. You can't take it back now." He glanced up at Taylor. "Now get out of my office." For a moment Taylor just stood there, frozen. " _Out!_ " Taylor jumped and turned on his heel, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

He leaned on the edge of the bed, watching the labored rise and fall of Melody's chest as she slept, eyelids fluttering. Occasionally her whole body would tremble and she would float back to consciousness, before her head slumped again. For hours he had raged, desperate for any solution, no matter how absurd or out-of-reach – anything to save Melody's life. After fighting with Dover and nearly being knocked out, he had finally stopped struggling and come back to the cabin, to kneel next to her, to be there. It was the only thing left he could think of to do.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. His cheeks were dry and cracked from the tears he could no longer bring himself to shed. "I said I'd take you away from here. I said you'd be okay." He took her hand and took a deep, shuddering breath. "I did everything I could... didn't I? I wasn't wrong, was I?" He buried his face in his arms. "What am I supposed to do now..."

He felt Melody stir, her hand turning inside his. "Tai?" she said, voice groggy and quiet. He looked up to her blue eyes gazing back at him in the dim light. "Where's Cody?"

Taylor cleared his throat, trying to disguise the strain in his voice. "He's with Monifa," he said. "She's looking after him."

For a brief second, Melody smiled, morphing into a grimace of pain. "It hurts... it hurts," she whimpered, reaching out to clutch his arm. He pulled himself up to sit on the bed next to her and hold her. He could feel the heat of her fever against his arms.

Taylor tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He could feel tears prickling above his cracked cheeks. "I know... it's okay... go back to sleep,"

Melody moaned in pain. "Why does it hurt so much?" she cried.

"You're sick, Melody... you're sick and... and you need to go to sleep to... to get better." Taylor could hardly speak, his chest felt so tight.

Melody was quiet, and for a moment Taylor thought she might have fallen asleep before she said, "I'm... not going to get better, am I?"

Taylor froze. He did not want to answer, did not want to shake his head. He couldn't help the pained whimper that escaped his throat. Melody began to shake. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." he said. He could feel the tears fighting to escape, his throat clenching up to prevent the words.

"You... you have to promise me something," she said, voice trembling.

" _No... Melody, don't..._ " he sobbed, clutching her tighter.

"Cody... you have to take care of him."

Taylor shook his head, gritting his teeth. " _I can't... I can't..._ "

"Yes, you can," she said, coaxing him away so she could look at his face. "You can do it, I know you can. You have to get him out of here someday." Taylor just stared at her, tears streaming. "Promise me, Tai... promise me."

Slowly, Taylor nodded, and Melody sagged. "I... I promise," he sniffed.

Her eyes drooped, and she settled her head against his chest. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "Will you... forgive me?"

"What are you saying? Melody?" She gazed unfocused at his hands. He could see her lips moving, but couldn't hear anything. "Of course I forgive you... I love you." He waited for a response, but her lips had stopped moving. He realized she had stopped shaking. "Melody?" He held his breath, listening for the sound of her breathing, but there was nothing. She felt heavy in his hands. "No... you can't leave me here... don't leave me here alone... Melody?" He pressed his hand to the side of her face, but she did not blink. His vision blurred. He began to sob, and he began to scream, but she did not move or speak anymore. He screamed until he could no longer make a sound, could no longer see – felt and saw nothing around him. Distantly he heard the sound of Dover's voice, and a hand on his arm, and then there was nothing.

* * *

Taylor sat sifting the cold earth through his fingers. He picked up a clump, let it spill between the cracks of his fingers like the sands of an hourglass. Picked it up again, let it sift, tossed it onto the dark pile at his feet. As if somehow, if he could keep the earth moving, he could delay getting up and walking away. He could keep digging, keep shifting, keep burying her until eventually he would have to dig a hole beside her, six feet down beneath the roots of the enormous old tree. He glanced up at the gnarled branches high above, just beginning to regain their leaves. Higher above was the evening sky. He had worked through the night and morning to bury her, and hadn't moved since; staring at the grave, sifting earth through his fingers.

He heard footsteps in the dirt behind him, and turned to glance up at Dover as he sat down beside him. Taylor stared at him for a moment and looked back to the dirt in front him. Dover watched silently for several minutes as Taylor continued to pick up little handfuls of earth and toss them.

"I know what you're going to say," Taylor said at last. He tossed a pebble and it tumbled over the crest of the mound. "And you're right. I cared too much."

"That's not what I was going to say."

Taylor let his hand rest in the dirt, looking over at Dover. Dover draped his arms over his knees and sighed.

"Remember when Kaelin died? And you came to see me?" he said. Taylor nodded. Dover looked away. "I was wrong. It wasn't my fault. Since then I've realized... that you can't control everything. Believe me, I've never stopped thinking about all the things I could have done differently, all the things I didn't do. I could think about it forever. But I couldn't have kept him alive forever. It's not my fault he chose to kill himself any more than it's my fault that Master chose to beat him, or buy him in the first place."

Taylor could see the reflection of light sparkling in Dover's eyes as tears welled up. He glanced down at the ground, patting the dirt flat around him. "Taylor, are you listening to me?" Dover said. "It's not your fault."

Taylor's hand stopped moving. He could feel a familiar prickle in his own eyes.

"I know what you're thinking. There's nothing you could have done."

Taylor clenched his eyes shut, tried to stop the tears from coming. "I... I could've..."

"You could have what? Reversed the infection? Kept her from getting pregnant? Stopped her from becoming a slave in the first place?"

"No, but I...! I could have done... something... anything..."

"You _did_ do something. You cared about her. You gave her something she never had."

Taylor tried to scrub the tears from his eyes against his dirty sleeve, looking up at Dover. "What's that?"

Dover crinkled his nose and smirked. "What do you think it is, stupid?"

Taylor looked up into the tree and for a moment he saw himself sitting there with her, saw her smiling in the sunset, saw her lips form the words. ' _Do you love me?'_ Dover started to get up, and Taylor jumped. "Wait!" he cried. "I need to ask you something." He scrambled to his feet.

Dover crossed his arms. "What?"

Taylor looked around, but there was no one nearby; he figured they must all be too afraid to approach him right now. "Well... I know you told me not to talk about it." Dover's expression grew dark at this. "But... I need to see the mistress."

"What? No. And if you can bring _that_ up, you must be feeling better, so... later." Dover turned on his heel and began to walk away. Taylor leapt forward and grabbed his arm, holding him back.

"I'm serious! You have to!"

Dover ripped his arm away and spun around, clenching his fists. "Why? What is _so_ important that you'd need to turn to her?"

"It's Cody." Dover froze. Taylor glanced down at his feet. "I promised her I'd take care of him. But I can't. I know I can't. He needs more than what I can give him, more than what any of us can give him. Monifa can't watch him forever." Dover let his hands relax, taking this in. "It'll just be for a little while... just until he's old enough that I can take care of him. But I... need help."

Dover stared at Taylor for a moment and sagged. "Taylor... please... there has to be something else," he muttered. "You have no idea what she's like... no idea..."

"There isn't anything else," Taylor said firmly. "I don't care what it takes. I have to see her. I have to try."

Dover turned away. After a pause he said, "Alright... I'll talk to her. But... you gotta promise _me_ something."     

Taylor sighed. "What?"

Dover gave a small smirk. "You gotta let me help you take care of the kid. You don't have to do this by yourself."

Taylor blinked in surprise. For a moment he could not find his voice. "Y-yeah... sure."

Dover started to walk away, hands in his pockets. After several steps, he stopped and looked back. "Are you coming?"

Taylor glanced back at the grave and shook his head. "I think I... need a few more minutes."

Dover frowned, shrugged, and kept walking. Taylor sat back down and gazed at the dirt until he could barely separate the turned earth from the dry earth in the darkness.


	13. Chapter 13

Several days passed and Taylor heard nothing from Dover. Monifa did her best to devise a formula for Cody, but the boy just cried and cried and refused to eat. Though she tried to put on her best face for Taylor and stay positive, he could tell the pressure was weighing on her from the deep circles under her eyes. To make matters worse, Johann was constantly in a foul mood from the noise, and Taylor had to step in on more than one occasion to keep Johann from trying to shut the boy up himself. This must have been the last straw for Dover; late one afternoon, he pulled Taylor aside behind the cabin.

"I talked to her," Dover whispered. Taylor stared blankly at him for a moment before recognizing who the 'her' referred to. "She said she'll meet you in the basement tonight after lights out."

Taylor nodded. "Thanks." He turned to walk away and felt Dover's hand clasp his shoulder.

"Are you sure about this?" he said, voice shaking. "I... I could..."

Taylor brushed Dover's hand off. "This is something I gotta do myself. Sorry."

He walked away, leaving Dover behind. Behind him, he heard the sharp _thunk_ of Dover kicking the wood paneling.

* * *

Taylor glanced up at the stars overhead. It was dark, too dark to see much beyond the vague outline of the basement doors he sat next to. He could hear Kurt's muffled snores through the dorm wall not far away. He shivered in the chilly night air. _Come on, come on._ He had just started to consider going back to the dorm and forgetting the whole thing when a soft scraping noise startled him. He glanced at the basement doors, pulse racing. _That's it_. He waited a moment and, gingerly, tested the handle of a door. It yawned open and he slipped past. For a second he thought of doing this same thing months ago, following Dover. His stomach knotted and he felt the familiar urge to run, but he knew he could not back down now.

He stepped down into the darkness of the basement. He could see the faint glow of a light in the corner over the tops of the shelves; he walked towards it, shivering. As he rounded the shelves to the 'room' in the corner, he saw Corinne already waiting for him, sitting on the chair. She was wearing the nightgown Taylor remembered from the last time he saw her here; despite the cold, he felt uncomfortably warm.

"Hello, Taylor," she said as he approached.

He stopped beside the mattress, feeling awkward. "H-hi... miss," he stammered, giving a short bow.

She smiled and waved at the mattress. "Have a seat." Taylor sat down, crossing his arms over his knees. Now he had to look up at her, which only made him feel smaller next to her. "How are you?"

"I'm... I'm okay," Taylor said. He coughed, trying to clear the knot out of his throat.

Corinne leaned on her knees. Taylor suddenly realized at this angle that he could almost see down the top of her dress and quickly looked away. "So Dover said you wanted to talk to me."

Taylor stared down at his hands. "Um... yeah... well, you see..." This had all been a lot easier in his head. Though he knew very little about Corinne, being near her always made him feel flustered and tongue-tied. "It's about the baby. Cody."

"Hmm? What about him?"

"He's not eating... he needs different food, better food than what we have... and he needs someone to watch him and take care of him."

"And... you want _me_ to do it?"

Taylor nodded. "Y-yes, ma'am."

Corinne leaned back, folding her arms. "I don't know... that's an awful lot of time and responsibility..." she sighed, pursing her lips.

Taylor flushed and sat up a little straighter. "You wouldn't have to do it forever... just till he's old enough that he can live with us... just... for a little while."

"Hmm..."

Taylor bowed his head. "Please? I can't do this by myself... you're the only one who can get what he needs, who can protect him..." He risked glancing up at her.

Corinne blinked down at him and smiled. "Well... alright, I suppose I could... just for a little while, like you said?" Taylor brightened and nodded. "But. There's something you have to do for _me_ in exchange."

Taylor felt his heart drop a little. He knew there would be _something_ , but he had hoped... "W-what's that?"

Corinne slipped off the chair and sat next to him in one graceful motion. "If I tell you, you have to keep it a secret," she said quietly.

"You mean like with Dover?" Taylor said, feeling slightly nauseated.

"Right. If anyone else knew, they might think I'm giving you special treatment. Dear Johann wouldn't like that at all. It would make it hard to keep my promise."

Taylor slowly nodded. "Okay, I... I understand. So... what is it?"

Corinne smiled. She placed a hand on his arm and his skin froze under her touch. "Well, it's something that only a boy can do." Taylor blinked at her in stunned bemusement. Corinne's lips curled a little wider. "Have you ever had sex before, Taylor?"

He stared at her for a moment and shook his head.

"Well, you know what it is, don't you?"

Taylor could feel himself blushing all the way to his fingertips. "It's... something you're supposed to do with someone you love," he muttered.

Corinne pulled her hand away and leaned on her elbows. "That's true, but, do you know why?" Taylor shook his head again. "That's because it feels good. It's something you can do to show someone else you care about them."

In the back of his mind, Taylor thought of Melody and Dover, and wasn't too sure about this. From what he had seen, it didn't seem like something that involved caring at all. "But... I don't know how..."

She gave a soft laugh. "That's alright. I can show you."

Taylor hugged his knees and looked away. "I don't know... I don't think we should..." he murmured.

She touched his arm again and he jumped a little. "Listen. Don't think about it. All you have to do is follow what I say. Do this for me, and I will look after the boy for you. You want that, don't you?"

Taylor glanced at her and nodded. He could feel his heart beating against his knees. "Okay, I'll... I'll do it," he said, trying not to choke on the words.

She smiled and her hand floated to the back of his neck, patting him on the opposite shoulder. He felt the hairs on his neck prickle. "Good boy. Now, sit a little closer to me." She pulled him closer, so they were sitting side by side. He thought that this close she must be able to hear how loud his heart was beating. Her hand fell from his shoulder to his waist. Taylor could feel her icy fingertips graze the skin of his hips and instinctively blocked her. "What's the matter?" she purred, her face so close to his that he could feel the warmth of her breath.

"Sorry... I... I'm kind of scared," he whispered. Admitting this just made him feel embarrassed and panicked.

She made a ticking noise with her tongue. "Oh, there's no reason to be scared. Just relax." She brushed his hand away and her other hand strayed to the button of his pants. With a jolt he realized she wanted to take them off. He did not feel remotely more relaxed, and he felt himself shaking as he shifted so she could pop the button and pull his pants down to his knees, and off. He had long since given up on the hassle of trying to keep a single pair of boxers clean, so without his pants, he was naked from the waist down. Mortified, he automatically covered himself with his arms. The chilly basement air felt stifling now.

"Relax," she repeated, but he wanted nothing more than to scoop his pants up off the floor and make a run for it. Only focusing on Cody, hungry and crying, kept him on the mattress. Her hands nudged his arms away and settled on a spot between his legs that sent a jolt shooting up his spine. Fear and embarrassment mixed with a rush of pleasure as her hand moved slowly up and down, caressing him. Distantly he felt her lips brush his ear. "See, it's not scary, is it?" she whispered. He could hardly hear her; all the blood had drained out of his head, leaving him dizzy. He could feel himself swelling under her hand, and the sensation was both exhilarating and terrifying. "Dover was nervous, too, at first," she said. "But I think he came to enjoy it."

"You... did this with him?" Taylor gasped. It was hard to speak; his mouth felt dry.

"Well, we've done more than _this_." She let go of him, and Taylor jerked in surprise. He felt slightly ashamed at the part of him that wanted her to continue, that actually made him reach for her arm.

Taylor nodded; he thought he might agree to anything if she went back to what she was doing. Instead, she pulled him back so they were lying next to each other on the mattress. "Now, do that to me," she said, taking his hand and pulling it to her thigh. His fingertips grazed the curve of her hips, pushing up the hem of her dress, and he realized she wasn't wearing anything underneath.

He felt his stomach clench. "No, I—I can't," he whimpered, trying to pull his hand back. Though her fingers looked delicate, she easily held him in place.

"You want to make _me_ happy, don't you?" she purred. Taylor hesitated, and she seized the pause to turn and draw his hand between her legs, until his fingers brushed something hot and wet. He tried to tear his hand away but she held it, guiding his fingers to curve inside of her. He felt like he might be ill and swallowed a wave of nausea. She made his fingers search until they brushed a spot that made her jump.

Taylor had no idea what this meant. "Does it hurt?" he said with an edge of panic.

She shook her head. "No; keep touching there, like this." She pushed his finger so it swirled in small circles. She pulled her hands away and he tried to imitate what she had been doing. She groaned and writhed slightly as his fingers moved and he wondered vaguely if it really didn't hurt at all. The sounds she made left him feeling warm in a way that made him feel even more embarrassed.

Her breathing became more labored, and to his surprise, she reached out and pulled him closer, so he was practically on top of her. He pulled his hand away, and before he could figure out what to do or whether or not he wanted to back off, her hands fell to his crotch and he froze. Her fingers wrapped around him and guided him to her, until he felt himself reach the spot where his hand had just been. Taylor felt her breath puff against the side of his neck. "Push inside," she whispered, pulling him closer to her, so that he could feel the heat and damp around the tip of him.

Heart hammering in his chest, he pushed his hips lower. The tension gave him another rush of pleasure, and he panted, leaning on his arms on either side of her chest. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled her legs up to fit around him. Her hands strayed to the bottom of his hips and guided him up and down, her fingers prickling against the heat of his skin. She began to moan again as he moved. He could hear the springs of the mattress creaking beneath his knees. "Yes, that's right," she breathed. "Good boy... good boy... harder, do it harder." He pushed his hips against her a little harder, and her hands twitched on the small of his back. He could feel himself building as their breaths mixed and his hips moved faster. Thought and emotion fell away altogether so that he could only focus on the movements and the sounds and the sensations. He groaned and felt his whole body tense from his toes to his hips, pleasure flooding his mind so intensely he thought he might explode, and he felt himself twitch inside her and something hot and wet splash around him. She tensed and gave a strangled cry and she let go of him, sagging against the mattress. He sat up and immediately felt dizzy, blackness spotting across his eyes. He pulled away until he was free of her and backed up, collapsing against the mattress. He lay there listening to the sound of his breathing until it began to slow, and he could start to feel his hands and feet again.

Taylor felt the mattress shift as Corinne sat up and moved over to him. Her breath tickled the side of his face and he felt her kiss his cheek. "Good boy, Taylor," she murmured. "You liked it, didn't you?"

Taylor stared across to the mattress at his hands. He could still feel the sensation of her on his fingers, and the memory made him feel ill. Now that the pleasure was gone, he felt cold and strangely sad. He wanted to run away and hide. Her fingers brushed his shoulder, and he nodded.

"Good. So you won't tell anyone, will you, sweetie?" she cooed. He shook his head. She patted his back. "Alright. Don't worry about the boy. I'll make sure he's taken care of."

Taylor pushed himself up shakily and reached for his pants. He had to think through every step of putting them on. He swayed to his feet and glanced back at her, careful to avoid her eyes. "Is... is that it?"

He could see her smirk out of the corner of his eye. "Oh, no. Of course not. It'll take a lot more than _that_."

* * *

True to his word, Taylor told no one of what had happened in the basement. All anyone else could tell was that he started to take unusually long baths; no matter how long or how much he submerged himself in the soapy water, he could not shake the feeling of being dirty. In some way he was glad that no one knew; it was easier to pretend that nothing had changed. Though he had been hoping for some support from Dover, Taylor realized with dismay that Dover was avoiding him. Whenever Taylor tried to approach him, he would clam up and dart away. Dover had even resorted to some of the old snide remarks and bullying, which hurt worse than his silence. Eventually Taylor gave up on trying to talk to Dover, gave up on talking to anyone at all. He had never felt more alone, which only made his feelings about Corinne more and more complicated as she quickly became his only confidant. She became both a source of agony and comfort.

True to her word, Corinne had taken Cody off of Monifa's hands the very next day. She gave Monifa the money to pick up extra ingredients at the market, and devised a formula that Cody would eat. The baby went with her almost everywhere, and as far as anyone else could see, she was the picture of a happy, devoted mother. Corinne had a crib built and moved down to the guest bedroom with it to avoid bothering Johann. Johann could only grumble over the change; as Taylor had hoped, Corinne's authority superseded Johann's, and if she was going to take care of the baby, there was no one and nothing to stop her.

Though Taylor felt some relief that Cody was now being properly taken care of, he quickly realized that none of the changes made for Cody had anything to do with his well-being. If Taylor hesitated or refused to meet Corinne, she would 'forget' to feed him, and let him cry until Taylor gave in. Moving down to the guest bedroom was a convenient excuse to escape Johann's notice. Sitting outside with Cody gave Corinne an excuse to speak to Taylor, and Taylor quickly learned all of Corinne's cues, Cody's presence on her lap an unspoken threat.

The meetings were planned seemingly at random at Corinne's whim, which only left Taylor feeling more anxious when a day went by without contact from her. The more time he spent around her, the more he realized that she was just as moody and unpredictable as Johann. In the back of his mind, he knew that behind her affections and sweet words, there was nothing. Her kisses made him sick, and he hated having to kiss her back even more. Though Corinne insisted that what they were doing was okay, that she cared about him, he was allowed no control over what they did. He had to learn to follow whatever she said, no matter how embarrassing or uncomfortable for him. If he refused, or did anything without being prompted, her personality would turn icy. An off-hand remark about Cody or Johann was all it would take to melt Taylor's resistance or rebellion. He began to suspect that she actually enjoyed the shame and discomfort he felt at being forced to perform for her. He wanted to believe what she said – that he liked it, that he wanted to do those things for her, that he wanted to make her happy. When she held him or listened to him, he wanted to believe that she meant the softness in her touch, the understanding in her voice. It was easier than accepting that he was being violated, that the last bit of control he had left – of his own body – was slowly being wrested away from him.

* * *

Three weeks passed, and Taylor began to feel himself slipping. He was exhausted, mentally and physically, and had to struggle to complete tasks that had become almost innate. Dover began to come around, trying to mask Taylor's mistakes in the field and keep him alert. He cracked jokes and teased him – anything to distract Taylor from thinking too hard about anything, from feeling the pain and exhaustion. One night after dinner, Taylor found himself staring into the fire, a half-finished plate on his lap, with Dover sitting next to him. Jareth stood waiting, and Dover waved him away. Jareth gave Taylor and Dover a long look before turning and walking away to the dorm. For a moment Dover listened to the crackle of the fire and watched the flames dance inside the circle of stones. He glanced at Taylor, who was gazing unfocused at the fire, one leg bouncing the plate up and down slightly.

Dover cleared his throat. "Uh, Taylor?"

Taylor jumped as if he had been slapped. A piece of carrot sprung off the plate and spiraled into the dirt.

Dover smirked. "Hey, welcome back," he said.

Taylor blinked and shook his head. "Sorry, were you saying something?"

"No, just admiring the sight of you drooling into your veggies." Taylor looked sheepishly down at the plate on his lap as if seeing it for the first time. He nudged the cold vegetables across his plate. Dover leaned down to get a better view of his face. "What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing," Taylor said.

"Sure didn't look like it."

Taylor looked away. "What, you care now?"

Dover scratched his head. "Yeah... well... I guess I..." He sighed. "If I say I'm sorry, does that help at all?" he mumbled.

Taylor scooped the carrot off the dirt and tossed it into the fire, listening to it hiss amongst the embers. "If you're trying to make me _feel better_ or something – don't bother. It's fine. I don't care. _I'm_ fine."

"Doesn't seem that way to me," Dover said, crossing his arms.

"I'm _tired_. I just want to go to bed."

"So what's stopping you?"

Taylor froze. He watched the carrot blacken and shrivel in the fire, until it was indistinguishable from the ash around it.

Dover stared down at this feet. "I don't know if you'll believe me, but, uh... I really am sorry. I kind of... panicked. I didn't know what to say."

"You don't have to _say_ anything," Taylor muttered. "I just... I don't know." He idly picked up another carrot off his plate and tossed it in the fire. "I thought at least _you_ would... understand."

"I _do_ understand. I wish I didn't. I never wanted you to do this. I _told_ you—"

"Look, I really don't want to hear it. Like I really believe that you ever gave a shit."

Dover blinked, clenching his jaw. "What, did she tell you that?"

Taylor turned away, tossing the plate on the ground.

"Whatever she said about me, it's... it's a total lie."

Taylor crossed his arms and gave a snort of disbelief. "No, I think she's right. Ever since I got here, you've tried to hurt me. Why should I believe you? What makes you so different now?"

Dover balled his fists against his knees. "I know, you... I don't care if you trust me or not, but... I'm serious about this. You can't trust her. Don't you get it? She's trying to single you out. She doesn't _want_ you to trust anyone but her."

Taylor shot him a glare. "I know why you _really_ avoided me. You're jealous."

Dover gazed back, stunned. "B-bullshit! Why would I be--"

"You think I stole her away from you, don't you? That's why you were so mad at me."

"No, that's not it at—"

Taylor laughed. "The tables have really turned! So, how about it?" He leaned closer and muttered, "I bet _you_ liked it, didn't you? She told me _all_ about you. How you used to _cry_ when she touched you—"

There was a sharp smack and a burst of light in Taylor's eyes as he was punched across the face, neck straining as his head flew to the side. He reeled backwards and Dover caught him by the shoulders, hands shaking with rage. " _Stop it!_ Are you even listening to yourself?" Taylor brushed a trickle of blood away from his lip and chuckled. Dover shook him back and forth. "I _know_ this isn't you. She's fucking with your head. She did the same thing to me." Taylor stopped laughing and began to shiver, avoiding Dover's eyes. "She doesn't care about you any more than she cared about me. She just wants to isolate you. She wants you to believe it's okay. It's _not_ okay." Taylor shoved Dover away, furiously scrubbing tears from his eyes. Dover went on, "I don't care if you're mad at me, but it's the truth. She's just going to keep hurting you. It's just going to get worse. I know."

"I-is that supposed to make me feel better?" Taylor laughed.

Dover frowned. "I want to help. I said it, and I meant it."

"There isn't anything you can do, so just forget about it." Taylor turned away and grabbed the plate off the ground, tossing the soiled vegetables into the fire. He moved to get up and Dover jumped to his feet. Taylor tried to step around him, but Dover kept swaying into the way. " _Move_."

"I'm _sorry_. You believe me, don't you?"

Taylor furrowed his brow and tossed his bangs out of his eyes. "Sure, whatever, just _move_ —"

He pushed at Dover with the plate and, to his surprise, Dover pushed back, wrapping his arms around to Taylor's back. Instinct kicked in and he fought to free himself, but his arms were pinned against his chest. "The hell are you doing?! Let go!" he spat. Dover refused to let go, burying his face against Taylor's shoulder. Taylor heard a sniff and felt something cold dampen his shoulder, and froze. He slowly relaxed, listening to Dover cry in confusion. As soon as Dover's grip relaxed, he seized the opportunity to tear himself away. For a moment he stood staring at Dover, head hung down. Confused, he turned and ran to the kitchen door.

When he got to the kitchen, there was no one inside. There was a pile of dirty dishes by the sink. Taylor walked towards it, distracted and mulling over what had just happened. He set his plate in the sink, stared at it for a moment, and flipped the faucet on. Without realizing it, he started cleaning the plates one by one, so absorbed in his thoughts he did not notice anything around him.

"You two seem to be getting along pretty well," a voice spoke behind him.

Taylor whirled around, sloshing soapy water out of the sink onto the floor. Corinne was standing just behind him, smiling. Adrenaline ebbing, he grabbed a towel off the counter and crouched to wipe the water off the floor. "Sorry, ma'am, I... I didn't hear you come in," he muttered.

She crossed her hands. "That's alright." She paused. "You seem upset. Is something the matter?"

Taylor shook his head, pushing himself unsteadily to his feet. "No, ma'am. I'm fine."

She cocked her head to the side. "Are you sure? You know you can tell me about it."

Taylor winced. He knew this was one of her cues, knew she would not allow him to stay silent. He turned back towards the sink, trying to go back to washing the dishes. "Really, I'm f-fine," he said.

He felt her press up against his back, hands settling on his shoulders. "No? Maybe you want to talk to Dover about it instead?"

Taylor froze. _Why is she bringing him up all of a sudden?_ Taylor thought. _Did she see us?_ "No, of course not..."

He felt her grip tighten slightly on his shoulders. "What did he say?"

Taylor set a clean plate aside. "Nothing. He was... the same as always."

Corinne tugged on his shoulders and turned Taylor around to press his back against the sink. She stared at him for a moment, and his eyes flickered back and forth, unable to hold her gaze. Her lips slowly curled up into a smirk. "You wouldn't be trying to protect him, would you?"

Taylor shook his head, glancing back at the sink to avoid looking at her altogether.

Corinne pressed her face closer to his. "You know, the baby has been exhausting me lately," she bemoaned. "I think I have an idea for something fun to do. Why don't you meet me tomorrow night, hmm?"

He gazed down at his hand and slowly nodded.

Her hand brushed up his neck and tugged on his ear. "Good boy." She turned and walked away just as Monifa stepped into the kitchen with a tray of dishes. She gave a short bow of the head as Corinne walked past, disappearing behind the swinging doors.

Monifa looked from the door to Taylor, who still stood with his back to the sink, gazing at the floor. She walked over and set the tray of dishes down next to him with a sigh, the clatter of porcelain jolting him out of his thoughts. Her eyes settled on the short stack of clean dishes beside the sink. "What are you doing in here? Trying to steal my job?" she said. "Go on, get out!" She shooed him away, and he shuffled towards the kitchen door, leaping down the steps and into the dark. For a moment she just stared at the open doorway, puzzled, and turned back to the sink.


	14. Chapter 14

The next night Taylor lifted his head off the pillow, blinking into the darkness. He could hear the soft sighs of breathing, interspersed with sharp snores. Silently, he slid out from under the blanket and got to his feet. By now he had identified every creaky floorboard, and he picked his way carefully across the floor to the door. He gave the room one more glance, feeling something was off, but couldn't place it. He cracked the door open and slipped past into the night air.

As he stepped into the basement and around the corner, he was struck with what had seemed off when he left the dorm – Dover was sitting on the mattress next to Corinne, looking sleepy and a little confused. Taylor froze, and Corinne smiled up at him. Dover's eyes widened and shot to Corinne.

"What's _he_ doing here?" Taylor heard him hiss out of the corner of his mouth.

She pressed a finger to his lips with one hand and waved at Taylor with the other. "Come on, come in, sit down," she said. More than just a little confused, Taylor stepped closer and settled in the chair next to the mattress. Looking down at the two of them only made him feel more anxious and confused, and he slumped a bit. Dover and Taylor exchanged glances.

"You... didn't mention he was gonna be here," Taylor muttered.

"News to me too, pal," Dover grumbled.

She just smiled and pressed a hand to her mouth. "Did I not? Oops."

Dover shot her a look. "What do you need me here for?"

She patted his hand. "Patience, I'm getting to that," she said. "Well, since the two of you are getting along so well now, I thought we could do something fun together."

Taylor felt his mouth go dry. "W-what do you mean, together?" he said.

She folded her arms and smiled a little wider, and Taylor was not sure he wanted to hear the answer anymore. "Well, since Dover is a bit more... experienced than you, I thought he might like to give a little demonstration."

All the color drained out of Dover's face. " _What?_ "

Taylor looked from one to the other, wide-eyed. "Uh, that's really not..."

Corinne leaned against Dover, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. "Don't you think it would be nice for Taylor? Hmm?" Dover bit his lip and shook his head. "You want to share, don't you?"

Taylor held up his hands. "It's okay, really, I... I'd rather not..."

Her eyes flashed to him. "No? Are you sure? Would you rather do it, then?"

Taylor swallowed and shook his head.

Corinne looked back to Dover, who was staring blankly to the side. Her fingertips caressed his neck. "How about it, hmm? Want me to do it with Taylor instead? You don't want that, do you?" Dover blinked at Taylor, then her, and slowly shook his head. Corinne leaned closer to him. "Good. You'll try hard for Taylor, won't you?" Dover took a deep breath and nodded, color returning to his face. She turned his face towards him and kissed the side of his lips. "And you'll try hard for me, won't you?" she whispered. Dover didn't respond, just gazed absently as she kissed him and he, reluctantly, kissed back. Her hands trailed down his back, turning him towards her. Her kisses strayed to his neck, hands working their way under his shirt. Taylor squirmed, looking away, and he felt cold fingers seize his chin and turn it back towards Corinne.

"Don't look away," she said, blue eyes glaring back into his. He blinked at her, blushing, and nodded. Dover shot him a desperate, piteous look before Corinne turned back to him. She pulled his shirt off over his head. It was something Taylor had seen many times before on hot days, but now it felt embarrassing, and Corinne had to lean on Dover's hands to keep him from crossing his arms. Her kisses trailed down his chest to his navel. Taylor could see Dover's skin flushing red beneath his tan wherever she touched.

She made a motion with her fingers along his back that Taylor did not recognize. Dover hesitated, and his hands reached, shakily, for the laces of the nightgown on her back. With careful movements that spoke of much practice, he undid the laces an eyelet at a time until the gown yawned off her chest and he was able to pull it down over her hands. Taylor caught a glimpse of her bare breasts and felt a jolt; he had to force himself not to look away as Dover leaned to her chest, kissing her. She laid back against the mattress, pulling him with her as he kissed her breasts. She moaned, and Taylor felt himself feeling both embarrassed and hot, and he shifted uncomfortably on the chair, pulling his legs up to sit on his feet.

Corinne guided Dover's hands to her hips to pull the rest of the nightgown down over her legs and off, until she was naked underneath him. She grabbed his back to pull herself up and whispered something into his ear that Taylor couldn't catch. Dover jerked back in surprise, casting Taylor a look before Corinne turned Dover back to her. He shook his head and she cooed something at him, tracing circles along his lower back. He shook his head again, but sagged, pushing himself away from her chest to hover over her hips. Corinne's fingers toyed with Dover's hair, and before Taylor could figure out what was going on, Dover's head dipped between Corinne's legs. She gasped and her expression melted into a wide smile. Taylor felt a surge of nausea at the choked sounds Dover was making. He clenched his eyes shut for a moment, listening to Corinne moan and writhe against the sheets. He heard her whisper some words of encouragement to Dover and swayed, light-headed.

When the sounds stopped, Taylor opened his eyes to see Dover sitting up, wiping his mouth while Corinne kissed his shoulder. Her hands fell to the waist of his pants and he flinched. She began to undo the button on his pants and he brushed her away, pulling them off himself. Taylor squirmed at seeing Dover naked and tried to focus his eyes on Corinne's shoulders. She pulled Dover back down so he was straddling her, and shivered a bit as Dover entered her. Dover began to rock his hips back and forth, eliciting a fresh string of groans from Corinne, and Taylor felt his cheeks burn. Though horrified at what he was being forced to witness and mortified for Dover, Taylor could not help the heat coursing through his body, and his own body's response prickling against his leg. He glanced at Dover's feet and tried to block out the pant of Dover's breath, the squeak of the springs, the heavy stench of sweat. He started to shake partially out of fear, partially out of frustration as the sounds built, until Dover gave a strangled cry and sagged against her, panting. She kissed Dover's neck, murmuring in his ear. Her eyes darted to Taylor for the first time since she told him not to look away, and she smiled. Despite the warmth in his body, Taylor felt something cold grip his chest.

"Alright," she whispered into Dover's ear, loud enough for Taylor to hear. She did not take her eyes off of him. "Now I want you to do it to him."

Dover pushed himself off her, dazed. "Wh... what d'you mean?" he muttered.

She sat up to lean on her elbows. "Taylor looks like he could use some help. You want to help him, don't you?"

Taylor hugged his knees to his chest, looking between the two with a mixture of confusion and fear.

Dover glanced back at Taylor and gaped at Corinne. "But... but he's a... he's a boy."

"So? What difference does that make? You can still do it, can't you?" She reached up to touch Dover's shoulder. "You know, that spot I showed you?"

Dover ducked away from her hand and pushed himself further away, shaking his head. "No... no, I... I can't do it..."

Corinne grabbed her nightgown and slipped it on over her head. She stood up next to the chair and leaned down, brushing the hair out of Taylor's eyes. Taylor flinched. "No, I think it's a _great_ idea. Taylor would love to try it, wouldn't you, Taylor? Wouldn't it be fun?"

Taylor's eyes darted to Dover. "Dover, what's she talking about...?"

Corinne waved him away from the chair, and he jumped up. She settled onto the chair, glancing at the two of them. Taylor sat awkwardly next to Dover, who refused to look at him. "If you don't want to, that's fine," Corinne said to Dover. "In that case, maybe one of your other little friends might like to play with me." Dover froze. She pursed her lips. "Let's see... there's... Amalric... Kurt..." 

Dover's gaze shot to her. "No... no, please..." There was a terror in Dover's voice that struck Taylor, and he winced.

"Jareth..."

Dover turned around, clenching his fists. "I'll do it, okay? I'll do it! Shit!"

She paused, smiling.

Taylor crossed his arms. "Do _what_?"

Dover looked back to Taylor, face blanched. He clenched his jaw.

Taylor looked slowly from Dover to Corinne and back, feeling comprehension dawning on him. He pushed himself further up the bed away from them. "No way... you can't be serious..."

Dover ran a hand over his face, rubbing his eyes. "'fraid so. It's you and me now."

Taylor's thoughts were jamming together like pieces of a puzzle connected wrong. He glanced at Corinne, who just crossed her legs and smiled at him. He pulled his knees up to his chest and hugged them. "N-... no, you... you can't..."

"He can, and he will," Corinne said evenly. Dover winced. Her eyes narrowed at him. "Isn't that right? I never said this was up for discussion."

Dover bowed his head and pulled himself closer to Taylor. "Come on," he muttered. "Let's just get this over with, okay?"

"No, it's not okay!" Taylor held out his hands to try and keep Dover back. Though Taylor had built up a bit in the past year, Dover was still broader and better built, and he easily pushed Taylor's arms back to his chest. He tried to kick Dover away and Dover straddled his legs, pinning them to the bed. Taylor struggled to get away, and his back hit the shelves behind him. He felt a familiar surge of panic at being trapped. "Get _off_ me!" He wrenched his arms away and shoved Dover's chest. Dover wrestled Taylor's hands away and slammed his wrists up against the shelves. He leaned in closer to press his chest against Taylor's, until Taylor could only twist his neck. "Let go, you fu—"

Dover pressed his lips against Taylor's, and the words choked in his throat. Taylor pursed his lips, blocking Dover's attempts to deepen the kiss. Dover pulled away slightly, and Taylor seized the opportunity to pull his head back and butt it, hard, against Dover's forehead.

"Shi—!" Stunned, Dover reeled back in pain, clutching his forehead. Now that his arms were freed, Taylor balled his fists and lashed out, catching Dover on the cheek. Dover's head whipped to the side, and Taylor made good use of the momentum to shove Dover to the side and off of him. He scrambled out from under Dover and lunged forward, before something heavy caught him in the back and threw him down to the mattress, knocking the wind out of him. Taylor thrashed, but Dover leaned his full weight against Taylor's back, one hand pinning Taylor's neck down. "God damnit, Taylor, why do you always have to make things so _fucking_ difficult? _Stop it._ " 

"Fuck you!" Taylor spat, punching the mattress. "Like hell I'm going to let you do that!"

Dover pushed Taylor's face against the sheets, making it difficult for him to breathe, much less speak. Taylor could feel the puff of Dover's breath against the back of his neck. "Do you really think you have a choice?" Dover whispered. "What do you think she's gonna do if you leave? Think she'll just forget about it?"

Taylor glanced out of the corner of his eye at Corinne, who was watching them, frowning. Her fingers tapped against her knees. For a second he remembered Cody, alone, upstairs.

"This is... hard enough as it is," Dover continued, voice cracking. "You don't have to do anything, but don't fight me... okay?"

Taylor hissed out a frustrated breath against the sheet, but stopped struggling and let his body relax. Dover let go of the back of his head and Taylor felt a rush of cold air burst into his lungs as he pulled his face away from the sheet. Dover sat back and Taylor pushed himself up, rubbing the back of his neck and eyeing Dover warily. He could see a dark bruise forming on Dover's cheek and felt some measure of satisfaction.

Dover glanced at Corinne, whose eyes narrowed. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he sidled up next to Taylor. Taylor tensed and crossed his arms, but did not attempt to move away. Dover leaned in until their noses almost touched.

Taylor looked away. "I hate you," he whispered.

"Fine," Dover muttered back, and kissed the side of Taylor's lips. Taylor winced, clenching his eyes shut, as Dover continued to kiss him. Irritated, Taylor found himself turning his head and kissing back out of habit. Dover's lips were thinner than Corinne's, and his breath was heavy and dry. Taylor felt his stomach twisting into knots at the taste of Dover's breath in his mouth.

Dover pulled Taylor closer to kiss his neck, hands trailing along Taylor's back. The sensation brought up memories of Corinne, and Taylor found his body responding to it against his will, heart pounding in his chest. Having no control over his body only made him feel more frightened, and he jumped at the touch of Dover's fingertips under the hem of his shirt. He realized Dover was trying to pull it off, and he shakily leaned back and held up his arms so Dover could pull it up and over his head. Taylor felt the cold basement air prickle on his skin, giving him goose bumps. Dover rubbed Taylor's arms and leaned in to kiss his chest. Taylor flushed with embarrassment and anxiety, watching his chest rise and fall under Dover's lips. Dover pushed Taylor back onto his elbows to kiss his navel, and Taylor shivered, grasping the sheets under his hands. Dover's hands fell from Taylor's arms to brush his thighs, and Taylor gave a squeak of surprise that startled Dover. His hands trailed up between Taylor's legs to massage his crotch. Though Taylor was fighting with every fiber of his being he had left to ignore the sensation, to focus on what was happening – on Corinne's eyes, watching them – the tension was too much for him. Warmth flooded his body, and he could feel himself becoming more aroused, his pants scraping uncomfortably against his skin.

Taylor felt a tug on his hips and realized that Dover had already undone the button of his pants and was trying to pull them off. Taylor pushed himself back so Dover could pull the pants down to pool around his calves. Though by now Taylor was used to being exposed in front of others, he covered himself with his hands. Dover hesitated and glanced at Corinne. She smiled and tapped her lips. Dover looked back to Taylor, sighing. He leaned over Taylor's hips, brushing Taylor's hands away. Taylor realized what he was about to do a split second before Dover's lips touched him.  

" _No_!" Taylor yelped, pushing Dover's face back.

Dover blinked in surprise and shot Taylor an exasperated look. Taylor shook his head, trying to cross his legs, but his pants kept his legs locked together. Dover held Taylor's wrists down against the bed, head dipping back down to take Taylor's arousal into his mouth. Taylor flinched, simultaneously repulsed and stimulated by the pressure of Dover's tongue against him. He choked down a groan as Dover moved up and down his length. Heat and pleasure washed over his mind, blurring the negative thoughts and emotions, and he let himself grow lost in it. His vision swam and he closed his eyes. Distantly he was aware of the hammering of his heart and his breath panting onto his chest. He could feel his muscles tense more with every movement.

Just as the feeling was starting to get intense, Dover suddenly pulled away. Taylor blinked his eyes open in stunned confusion. Corinne held her hand on Dover's shoulder, who was coughing and spitting into the sheets. She leaned down to whisper something in his ear. Dover grimaced and shook his head. Her voice became more insistent, and to Taylor's surprise, Dover began to cry. She smoothed the hair out of his face and cooed, and he scrubbed his face with the sheet, hiccupping.

Seeing Dover cry only made Taylor feel more unsettled, and he felt a sting of fear as Corrine's eyes darted to him for a moment. She gave Dover's shoulder an encouraging nudge and leaned back into the chair. Dover took a deep, shuddering breath and crawled back over to Taylor. Taylor pushed himself back as Dover started to climb on top of him. "Wh-what are you doing?" Taylor muttered. Dover did not respond; he was staring blankly at Taylor's chest, refusing to meet his eyes. Taylor felt Dover's fingers graze his side and he arched his back away, giving Dover room to slip his hand under Taylor's hips and turn him over on his side. Taylor tried to turn his head to look over his shoulder, but Dover was leaning his forehead against his side, hiding his face. Taylor felt Dover's hands move over his hips to his rear. Confusion and a sickening feeling of dread melded together as Dover's fingers pushed past his cheeks and inside him.

Taylor jumped, shock and pain hitting him as sharp as if he had been stabbed. He could feel Dover's hand fighting to work its way back to him and he tried to push himself up, elbowing Dover in the stomach. Dover flinched and pushed himself back down on Taylor. Taylor thrashed, and Dover tangled his arms and legs with Taylor's to hold them down. He felt Dover's finger work his way back inside him and he winced. " _Stop it_ ," he gasped. There was a series of sharp pains as Dover slid another finger inside, stretching him. Taylor clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. "It hurts... stop it... _stop!_ " He tried to wrench his arms and legs back, but Dover had them locked down. Taylor shuddered as Dover's fingers curled deeper, mixing dull pain with shocks of intense pleasure. He jerked, feeling heat start to spread across his skin again.

There was an uncomfortable tension and a sharp pain as Dover pulled his fingers out. Dazed, Taylor went limp, and Dover flipped him onto his stomach. Dover leaned on his wrists and straddled his legs, pulling his hips closer to Taylor. Taylor felt Dover's own arousal brush his thigh and was struck with the realization of what Dover was about to do.

"No! _No!_ " He bucked, slamming his back against Dover's chest. Dover pressed hard against his wrists and refused to budge. His legs pried Taylor's open, and Taylor felt panic electrify his body. He thrashed and kicked at Dover's legs, but could not break free. Despite himself, he started to cry. "No, stop! No no _no_ —" His breath broke into a startled sob as Dover positioned himself at Taylor's entrance, and began to push inside. The pain was worse, much worse than Dover's fingers, and he started to scream. Dover quickly muffled the sound by shoving his face into the mattress. Dover pushed until his hips hit Taylor's, and Taylor's scream fell into wracking sobs. He could feel every slight movement of Dover inside him like the scrape of sandpaper, and he clenched the sheets under his hands.

For a moment Dover just leaned on Taylor's back, panting and shaking. Taylor felt something cold splash against the back of his neck and realized Dover was also crying. He slowly rocked his hips, pushing and pulling slightly inside Taylor. Each movement in and out felt to Taylor as if he were being ripped apart, and he whimpered into the sheets. As Dover pushed further, brushing a spot deep inside, Taylor felt jolts of pleasure as sharp as the pain. He shivered, groaning. He felt Dover's hands reach around his hips to stroke him, and pleasure mixed together with pain in his head until everything washed together again. The feeling of blindness was almost merciful, and he stopped crying for a moment as the rhythm of Dover's movements seized him. In and out, up and down; Taylor felt dizzy, and thought he might collapse if Dover wasn't holding him up. He could feel Dover's breath panting hoarsely against his back, groaning and hissing with pain. His movements had become harsher, and Taylor could feel Dover stiffen and tense inside of him. Taylor could think and feel nothing anymore, pain dulling as he began to build up, moaning. Faintly Taylor heard the slap of Dover's flesh against his over their breathing, every thrust rocking Taylor forward. Taylor's moans grew into strangled cries as intense pain mixed with intense pleasure, so sharp and overwhelming that Taylor felt as if his heart might explode out of his chest. Just as he thought he couldn't take it anymore, he felt tension ripple through his abdomen and thighs, and he came into Dover's hand. He heard Dover give a choked cry, and something hot surged inside him. Blood rushed to Taylor's head so fast that he nearly blacked out, collapsing onto his stomach, Dover on top of him.

For a moment Taylor just lay under Dover, trying to catch his breath. Pain was breaking back into his consciousness, and tears squeezed past his eyes, soaking the already soiled sheets. He could feel Dover's chest heaving on top of him as he struggled to breathe, coughing. Taylor was not prepared for the slice of pain as Dover pulled out of him, and he could not suppress a groan. Dover rolled away and leaned over the side of mattress, hiccupping and dry heaving. Tears trickled down his nose and splashed onto the floor.

Taylor turned on his side, glancing over at Corinne. Her face was flushed and her eyes were partly lidded. She had her gown pulled up, and Taylor realized with a surge of nausea that she had been touching herself as she watched. Anger, pain, and fear clashed together in a cacophony his head, and he burrowed his face in the sheets. The mattress creaked and leaned, and Taylor glanced over the sheets to see Corinne settling on the mattress beside him. His muscles jerked, bidding him to jump away, but he turned his face away and clenched the sheets to his head. As if he could make himself disappear if she could not see him. It didn't work; he felt the cool fabric of her dress settle against his side, and her fingers brush away the sweat on his back. She rubbed her hand in small circles, and her touch only made him feel more wretched.

"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" she murmured. Her hand moved up to tousle his hair. "You liked it, didn't you, Taylor?"

Taylor gave a loud sob in response, curling in on himself. She patted him on the head, and he felt her kiss his shoulder.

"Shhh. It's alright. Don't cry. Shhhh."

Taylor tried to fight down the sobs, but he couldn't stop. He took in several gasping breaths, trying to calm down. He felt the mattress shift as Corinne leaned over him to whisper something to Dover, then leaned away. She gave Taylor one more kiss on the back before getting up. He heard her feet shuffle along the floor and the click of the lights being shut off, and then her footsteps were shifting further away. They tapped up the steps, and he heard the faint click of the basement door locking.

For a moment the two lay in the dark as Taylor cried. It hurt to breathe; everything hurt; his chest, his back, his head. Exhaustion weighed on him, until he finally could not spare the breath to cry any more. He stared into the dark, emotions numbing and thoughts draining, cold air prickling his skin and making him shiver. He heard the mattress creak as Dover sat up and leaned over him.

"Taylor?" Dover whispered.

Taylor could not bring himself to speak. He covered his face with his hand, taking a deep breath.

"Taylor, I... I'm sorry," Dover whimpered. Taylor heard a sharp intake of breath, as if Dover had been stabbed. " _God_ , I'm so sorry," he cried, and began to sob. Taylor felt the mattress shift as Dover fell back against it. He listened to Dover cry until the sound faded, until he faded, exhaustion pulling him down like a weight into black water, and there was nothing.

* * *

The next thing Taylor knew, he was being dumped into freezing water. It pooled over his head and rushed up his nose, and he thrashed, pulling his head up and above to take gulps of cold air, coughing. He kicked and hit something solid, and realized he was inside the washbasin. He was wrapped in a sheet, which was now soaked through, clinging to him and tangling around his limbs. Taylor rubbed his face and blinked his eyes open.

In the half light of early morning, he could just see Dover standing in front of him, leaning against the edge of the washbasin with his head down, panting. Taylor could hardly read his expression in the dark. He watched Dover for a moment, pulling the wet sheet closer to him in the water, shivering.

Dover raised his head and noticed Taylor staring back. Taylor could just see his face crinkle into a weak smile as he said, "Hey... mind if I jump in?"

He _did_ mind – a _lot_ – but when he tried to get up, a surge of pain ripped up his spine so violently that he froze, yelping. He hissed through the aftershocks of pain as Dover peeled his disheveled clothing off and climbed in, sloshing water against the side of the basin. Some of it splashed in Taylor's eyes and he wrinkled his nose resentfully. Though the basin was large, it could just barely accommodate the two of them. Taylor growled in pain and annoyance as Dover shifted around to find a comfortable position, elbowing Taylor in the ribs and tangling up their legs.

"Sorry, but I really wanted to wash off before everyone else got up, and you were out cold," Dover said, grinning sheepishly. He rubbed his arms and shivered. "You're not as light as you look."

Taylor sank down further into the water, watching a bar of soap float by in a sudsy wake. He reached to grab it and felt another twinge of pain, and he cringed. Dover grabbed the bar and raised an eyebrow.

"Need some help?" he asked. Taylor glared, and Dover shrugged. "Suit yourself. Be stinky for all I care." He lathered the bar in his hands and started to wash his arms. His eyes darted to Taylor and away. "I didn't... hurt you too bad, did I?"

For a brief second Taylor just stared at him in confusion. The events of the past night rushed back to him as sharply and suddenly as if he had barreled into a wall, and he choked back a surge of nausea.

Seeing he had hit a nerve, Dover turned away and started to scrub soap into his hair. He dunked his head into the water and came back up, shaking water out of his hair, splashing Taylor in the face. Deciding he'd had enough of this, Taylor braved the pain to sit up and snatch the soap away, scrubbing at his neck and chest.

Dover crossed his arms and leaned back. He watched Taylor wash his hair for a moment and looked away. "I'm sorry... this really is all my fault," he muttered.

Taylor paused in the middle of wringing water out of his hair. He glanced up at Dover, who was purposely avoiding his eyes.

"If I hadn't tried to talk to you, maybe she wouldn't have gotten so mad," he sighed. "I didn't think she would go that far... if I hadn't agreed to let you meet her... maybe, if I—"

A heavy splash of water slapped the side of Dover's face, startling him out of his mumbling. He blinked in surprise at Taylor, who glared at him, and looked away.

"I don't want to talk about it," Taylor said, turning the soap around in his hands. "So... so just forget about it... okay?" Taylor tossed the soap into the water and settled his head against the wall, overcome with a wave of exhaustion.

Dover stared at him for a moment, and jumped at the sound of a screen door slamming in the dorm. He pulled himself up to lean his elbows against the rim of the basin. Jareth walked around the corner, clutching a folded towel to his chest. He froze mid-stride when he caught sight of Taylor and Dover together in the washbasin.

"What are you two doing?" Jareth said in his slow, rumbling voice, eyes narrowing from one to the other.

"Taking a bath, what's it look like?" Dover said, brushing his hair back out of his eyes.

Taylor sank down into the water, half hoping he might drown.

Jareth's eyes roamed slowly from Dover, to the small pile of clothing on the dirt. "You didn't bring any towels."

Dover pulled himself up to look over the edge of the washbasin at the ground. "What? Well, _shit_." He glanced back at Taylor. "Guess we'll have to air dry."

Taylor held his breath and sank down to the bridge of his nose.

Jareth stared at them for a moment and tossed his towel onto the ground next to Dover's clothes with a heavy sigh, and began to lumber back around the building. Dover snatched the towel and called after him, "Thanks, Jay! You're a real pal!" Dover waited until he heard the slam of the screen door again and looked back to Taylor. "Think if we tell him you sprained your ankle, he'll carry you out?" Dover whispered.

Taylor closed his eyes and sunk down until the water covered his head.


	15. Chapter 15

A "sprained ankle" ended up being Taylor's excuse for his pronounced limp over the next few days. Though Taylor had expected Dover to avoid him again, it ended up being just the opposite; Dover continued to talk to and tease him as if nothing had happened. Taylor wasn't sure if he was relieved by this, or just annoyed. As he had requested, Dover did not mention that night even if they were alone, and Taylor avoided being alone with Dover at all costs. Except for a bewildered and slightly suspicious Jareth, everyone else was blissfully unaware of the turmoil of emotions inside Taylor as he devoted all his waking energy to forgetting about what had happened. The more he tried to forget it, the more the feelings and images would come back to haunt him.

It did not help that Corinne was making it difficult for him to heal. Though she backed off for a few days afterward, Taylor soon found himself back down in the basement with her as if nothing had happened. To his horror, he noticed some spots of blood on the mattress, and had a sickening feeling he knew where it came from. Corinne lamented the budding friendship between Taylor and Dover (though Taylor refused to acknowledge it as such), but for the most part, did not press the issue. Just the casual mention of bringing Dover in evoked enough fear to break down even Taylor's toughest defenses, and he found himself giving in to her increasingly severe desires and experiments, adding new stains next to the old ones. Taylor had to start bathing in the middle of the night to avoid the damage being seen. He would sometimes need to wear his jacket for days at a time, even in hot weather, to cover up bruises on his neck and shoulders.          

Taylor could tell he was not the only one who was trying to cover up. During the odd nights Taylor was able to spend in peace in the dorm, Dover was only there for half of them. Dover was starting to look worse for the wear, and was usually so exhausted by dinner that he fell asleep before he managed to finish eating it. His normally sharp wit had dulled, and his usually bright affect flattened. Though he made a special effort to continue to talk to and tease Taylor like usual, Taylor could still tell that whatever was happening to Dover was taking its toll. Taylor wondered if Corinne might be using similar threats against Dover involving Taylor that she used in reverse for him.

The only comfort during that time to Taylor was the baby, Cody. Now almost three months old, he had grown quickly into a healthy and curious infant. Though Cody was almost always sleeping when Taylor saw him, Taylor was happy just to see that the baby was still being well taken care-of.          

As his abuse at the hands of Corinne escalated, Taylor found himself wondering about Cody's future. Would things really come to an end with Corinne when Cody was old enough to survive on his own without her care? She had already proven herself to be extremely resourceful when it came to finding strings to pull to keep both Dover and Taylor attached to her. Taylor knew in his heart that Corinne only continued to keep Cody safe because it was beneficial for her. What would happen to Cody the day he potentially outlived his usefulness? Even worse – and this shook Taylor to the core to even contemplate – what if she tried to hurt Cody in the same way as she was hurting him? What proof was there that she might not be doing such a thing already? Taylor knew it was absurd, and when he had casually mentioned it to Corinne, she had gone particularly cold, and Taylor had endured a long, rough night with her as proof of who she was _really_ interested in. Still, it did not erase the deep-seated fear that as long as Cody lived here, he would one day reach an age more to her taste. Nothing frightened him more than the idea that not only might this abuse continue with him, but might even be passed down to the innocent life he had worked so desperately to save.

Taylor was exhausted, sore, and afraid. Every day it got harder to control his thoughts and emotions. He would explode outwards, lashing out at anyone close enough – even Johann, who Taylor could count on to react violently in return. The pain was only a temporary distraction, and at worst, he would shut down completely. If he could move at all, he found himself going through the motions as if watching a doll. He cycled around and around, until he thought, for sure, he would either die or go insane. A thought rose in the back of his mind, growing louder and louder as his emotions spun out of control: _I have to escape._

* * *

It was a cool night in spring when Taylor finally decided to run. He had been preparing supplies idly that he happened to find in the basement – matches, dried fruits and meats, water in a glass bottle, a change of clothes, some old coins that had been saved in a jar and forgotten about. He had hidden it all in a small satchel that he shoved in a dusty box. He wasn't sure what he was waiting for, until he found himself sitting alone in the basement in the dark, listening to Corinne walk up the basement steps and lock the door. For several moments he just stared into the dark, numb. His gaze strayed to the box hidden in the corner. He watched, detached, as his body stood up, pulling clothing off the floor and putting it on. He went over to the box and crouched down, grabbing the satchel and swinging it over his shoulder, shoving the box back into place with his foot. He crept up the stairs, and out into the night.

For a minute he just stood outside the basement in the darkness. He glanced at the black windows of the house, quiet and still, and wondered if Cody was sleeping. He wondered if he should bring Cody with him. He shook the thought away. It was useless; he had no way to take care of Cody – would barely be able to take care of himself. For now, until he could come back with help, Cody was safer here. With that, Taylor took off as quietly as he could past the dorms, past the tool shed, past the windmill, through the fields. He reached the trees at the far end and paused, gazing down at a familiar mound of earth under the largest tree. For a moment he wavered, as if the grave were beckoning to him to reconsider. He turned away and began to jog, away from the trees, away from the road, away from the farm. He ran until his lungs burned and his legs seared, until the pain blended together and washed out, and the only thing he was aware of was the pant of his breath.        

The canyons loomed in front of him. He picked out a narrow divide in the walls and passed through it, picking his way over gravel and climbing over small boulders. The canyon stretched like a deep scar in the rock ahead of him, twisting and turning, walls carved smooth in places from the weight of time. Here, even the starlight barely reached, and Taylor found himself constantly stubbing his toes or bumping into walls. He pushed on until he could barely move his legs, and tumbled face-first over a small rock, skinning his arms and chin. He sat up, the pain stinging like a slap to his consciousness. He looked around.

In the darkness, he could just see a deep wound in the rock above his head. It was wide and tall enough for him to fit inside, and he picked his way over to it, scrambling up the side of the rock to pull himself inside. The space was narrow, barely tall enough to allow him to sit up – but it was enough. He tossed down his bag and pulled out a few sticks of the dried meat. It took all his will power to eat them slowly. He took a few sips of the water and forced himself to set it aside. He laid down on his back, staring up into the darkness.

For the first time, he began to realize what he had just done. Even if he turned back now, he would not be able to take back his obvious intentions. He would always be left wondering what could have been. He began to feel the first stirrings of excitement – and fear. _What am I gonna do?_ he thought. _Where should I go? How long do I have until they realize I'm gone? How long can I hide?_ He tossed and turned, but there was no comfort to be found either on the cold rock, or inside his mind.

* * *

Taylor took a step back to look over his reflection in the small, cracked mirror above the sink.

He had swapped out his soiled, torn clothing for the clean pants and shirt in his bag. The picture they presented was definitely not one of wealth, but at least it concealed the telling fact that he had run a distance in a short amount of time, over unfavorable terrain. The jacket served the dual purpose of covering the markings on his wrist – a dead giveaway – as well as partially concealing his face under the hood. Taylor had done his best to try and wash off the dirt from his face and hair in the sink, though he still had the haggard and drawn look of a boy who had gone a long time without sufficient rest or nutrition. His bare feet, he could do nothing about. It was not that he worried about hurting them; a year of field labor had toughened the soles of his feet to the point were shoes were superfluous. He was more concerned about the obvious picture they presented: only a slave could not even afford shoes. He could only hope that the metropolitan mix of aliens here downtown would not notice the particulars of human fashion.

Taylor had visited the city several times, usually to accompany Monifa and Jareth or Dover on a trip for supplies. Though the chattel laws of this country promised them some protection, the city was not a friendly place for a lone human, much less a slave. Usually they were not permitted to travel further than the outskirts. Taylor had purposely avoided this area, striking out into an area he had only heard about: the slums.

The contrast between the farm and the city could not be any more startling to Taylor. Everything was cramped, dirty, and noisy. There were people everywhere – aliens of all sorts, and the odd human. At first Taylor was too stunned and overwhelmed to move. The heavy air, the crowds, the buildings and machines, congested his head and made him feel panicked. He had finally taken refuge in the public bathroom of a strip mall. Cut off from the noise, he was finally able to breathe, and think.

His top priority was getting as far away as possible. Getting off the planet altogether would be best, and vaguely Taylor wondered what planet this was, and just how far away it was from Vusstra – from home. Either way, without money, this was an impossible feat. There was only so far he could get on foot, and the more time he spent outside walking, the more time _they_ had to find him.

The only option he could see was to hide. The question was, _where?_ He had no idea where to go. Though he felt he could blend in easily enough here, finding a place to stay where he would not be discovered – where he would be safe – was another matter altogether.

This brought up the issue of money again. He couldn't think of anywhere to stay that wouldn't cost money. He'd need money to buy food, money to eventually buy him a ticket out of here. Could he find a job? Anyone was likely to turn him in the second they found out they were employing a runaway slave. Could he steal? Taylor did not know the first thing about it, and there were similar risks to being caught. Could he beg? The thought made his stomach turn – it was humiliating to even contemplate – but it was the only possibility that might not lead to him being immediately caught.

He stared at himself in the mirror, watching his reflection shake its head. One thing at a time. What was important now? He couldn't stay in this room forever. He had to find somewhere to go. That was all that mattered; everything else would have to come later. He pocketed the coins, the bottle and the bag of dried fruit, and tossed his old clothing. Taylor stepped out of the restroom and onto the street, trying not to look as anxious as he felt. He took a deep breath and started to walk.

* * *

Taylor spent the next several hours wandering around town, looking for a place to settle. This proved to be even more difficult than he imagined. The city was dense enough that there were very few abandoned lots, and the few that were accessible were overrun with shanty towns. He ran into the same problem with abandoned buildings; most were already inhabited, and the residents were not eager to share, particularly because Taylor had nothing to offer. He found himself needing to make a run for it on more than one occasion.

Night fell, and the city came to life in a haze of colored lights. It began to drizzle, and Taylor darted down an alley, looking for shelter. He sat down beneath an awning on the side of a building as the sky opened up. Oily, fetid water poured off the awning and pooled around his bare feet. Several large crates had been stacked beside a dumpster, and he climbed on top of one and flipped another on its side, creating a small shelter above the water, and out of view of the street. He climbed inside. It was so cramped that he had to hug his knees to his chest, and his legs stung in protest. Taylor tried to forget about his exhaustion and his sore feet by listening to the rain pummel the awning and splash onto the dirt. Through the gaps in the bottom of the crate he could just barely see out of the alley, and for a while he watched shadowy figures pass back and forth. He tried to imagine who they were, and what their lives were like. The rhythm of the figures moving back and forth, the pounding rain, lulled him into a light, dreamless sleep.

* * *

Taylor was startled awake the next morning by the loud yap of an alien tongue. He rolled out of the crate and hit the ground, muddy and strewn with refuse uprooted by the rain. He caught a glimpse of a wiry alien in a shop apron before he was chased out of the alley. Only when Taylor was sure he had put a significant distance between himself and the alley did he allow himself to relax. He tried to brush the mud off his back, but succeeded in only spreading it around a bit. He heard his stomach growl in protest, and sighed. The rations he had brought with him were nearly exhausted, and though the coins in his pocket were a start, they were not enough to carry him past another day or two. He resigned himself to his only available course of action: begging.

Taylor had run into a number of beggars the previous day (most of which had not even looked twice at him), and thought he understood at least a little of how it worked. He picked a spot with heavy traffic on the corner of a shopping district, and started to search for targets. He quickly found out that begging was much more difficult than it looked.

Approaching someone was the biggest hurdle he had to overcome. His encounters with strangers largely had not ended well, and he was terrified of drawing attention from the wrong sort of person. Most people sped up when their eyes met, occasionally muttering some defensive apology, and were gone before Taylor had an opportunity to say anything at all. This, Taylor did not mind so much. Between Johann and Dover, Taylor had heard many colorful swears and remarks on his worth, but he was still stunned at some of the things he heard muttered or spat at him. He felt he could guess pretty well what was meant by some of the foreign words.

After several hours of this with little to show for it, Taylor was starting to feel dejected. He was about to give up and search for another hiding spot for the night when he was nearly trampled by a pair of heavy, clawed feet. Taylor threw himself out of the way just in time for an enormous box to crash to the pavement where he had just been standing. The contents of the box clattered and clanged as the box hit the ground. He heard a gasp and a dismayed groan, and turned to look at the alien that had nearly crushed him.

Taylor was instantly reminded of an extinct Earth creature, the kangaroo. The alien had enormous, powerful legs, with two knees on each leg and long feet. It walked on its toes, the heels of its feet sticking up above its knees. A thick tail swayed behind it, keeping its balance as it bent to look down at the box. The torso and arms were relatively humanoid, but the thick neck and the shape of the ears and head were more like a kangaroo's. The creature's snout was shaped similar to a beak, and its eyes, crinkling with concern, were a piercing gold. Taylor could see rows of sharp teeth as it gaped down at the box. He knew this species of alien was called a Mantrin, and felt a sting of fear. Mantrins were known for being an aggressive race of proud warriors.

This particular Mantrin, though large and intimidating to look at, was not the picture of a proud warrior. Its clothing was torn and smudged, and its shirt hung loosely on its frame. Though Taylor did not know much about Mantrins, something about the creature's ambiguous and gangly build told him that it was rather young and still growing. As the alien reached down to start picking up some loose machine parts that had been thrown out of the box, Taylor caught a glimpse of a string of black numbers on the inside of its wrist, clearly visible against the auburn tone of the alien's skin. He felt his stomach twist with dread. He had no idea who could possibly be suicidal enough to enslave a Mantrin, but it was definitely someone he did not want to cross.

The Mantrin fretted anxiously over the box. For a second Taylor considered making a run for it while the alien was distracted, but it was likely from the sheer size of her legs that she could easily catch up; instead, he dropped to his knees and helped pick up some screws and bolts that the Mantrin had overlooked. He held them out and the creature snatched them up.

"Thanks," the creature said. Taylor was startled to hear such a bright, high-pitched voice come out of a creature like this; it reminded him of his pod-sister, Iji, back on Vusstra. She tossed the screws into the box. "Sorry, I'm so sorry! I didn't see you! Ohh—I'm so clumsy," she groaned.

Taylor stood back up, feeling uncomfortable and anxious to get away. "It's fine, really... miss," he added as a force of habit.

She looked up for the first time, and stared bemusedly at him for a long moment. "Oh! You're a _human!_ " she said, rather loudly. Taylor steeled himself for the type of slur he had heard all day long, but instead the creature's face split into a wide, jagged smile. She craned her neck to try and see around his hood. Taylor instinctively turned his head. "I like humans, I think they're funny. Don't tell anyone I told ya that, tho'." Taylor just stared at her as she bent down to grab the box and heft it effortlessly back into her arms. He imagined she could lift him and toss him like a boomerang if she wanted to. "Whatcha doing out here? Shopping? I was! I just picked these up." She tilted the box dangerously to the side to accent her point.

By now the girl's loud voice was starting to draw attention. Taylor glanced nervously out of the corner of his eyes at two uniformed aliens on the opposite corner, eyeing them suspiciously. "Not exactly," he muttered. "I'm kinda broke."

"Huh? Broke?" She tilted her head, as if looking for an injury.

"I mean, I don't have any money."

"Oh!" She shifted the weight of the box and made a thoughtful clicking sound with her tongue. "Hey, I know! Humans are good with mechanics, right? Why don't you come back to the shop with me? Maybe Master will give you a job!"

Taylor held up his hands. "Uh, I'm really not any good with..."

The Mantrin was not listening. She was so excited over her own cleverness that she began to hop on the spot. The contents of the box clattered loudly and the ground rumbled under his bare feet. Across the street, Taylor could see the two aliens working their way towards them. "Yeah! Come on, let's go!" she chirped.

Taylor struggled to swallow a lump in his throat and started to back away. "That's okay, I uh... really gotta go now..."

The girl nearly dropped the box again. "Huh? Go where?"

Taylor was just about to make a run for it when the two aliens bridged the last few steps towards them. They were both the same tall, lizard-like species that were native to this planet. Most of their mottled, scaled skin was covered in what Taylor recognized as police uniforms, and he felt his heart sink. The taller of the two did not quite reach up to the Mantrin's eye level, but its enormous eyes with their slatted pupils were intimidating enough without the extra height. "Is there something wrong here?" it hissed.

Taylor vigorously shook his head. The girl rose up a bit on her long legs and said all in a rush, "I was on my way back from the flea market when I almost ran into him and I dropped the box and it made a big mess and he helped me pick it up and I asked if he was shopping and he said he was broke and I asked what that meant and he said he had no money so I said--"

The shorter alien, who was starting to look dizzy, waved his arms to cut her off. "Enough! Can we see some ID?"

The girl blinked at the aliens for a second, sinking back onto her heels. She shifted the box to rest on her thigh and held out her wrist. The aliens glanced at the numbers briefly before shooting her and the box a critical look. "Do you have a permit to buy these?" the tall one said.

She blinked her golden eyes in bemusement. "Of course!" she said. She began to dig through the contents of the box and pulled out a small device. She tapped it with her thumb and a small screen popped up. From the angle he was at, Taylor could not read it, but he knew what the device was. Monifa had a paper version that allowed her to use Johann's credits in the city without suspicion.

The aliens gave the screen only a cursory glance. "All right, move along, then," quipped the short alien. The Mantrin shot them a smug look before she began to lumber away down the sidewalk, tail lashing back and forth, nearly swiping the cap from the head of the shorter alien. Taylor tried to slip after her, but had not made it far when he heard a voice call out: "Hey, wait a second!" Taylor winced and turned slightly as the aliens jogged up to him. The Mantrin paused and glanced over her shoulder, frowning. The tall alien crossed its arms. "Where is _your_ identification?"

Taylor tried to keep his face neutral, but he could feel his heart pounding. The tall alien was squinting at his face and he lowered his head, tugging on the edge of the hood. "Uh... sorry, I must have... forgotten it at home."

"Oh yeah? Where's that?" the short alien countered.

Taylor bit his lip and searched for a location, any location, but he knew very little about the city to be able to fish up something specific. He spat out the first thing that came to mind. "Third District," he said, trying to keep his tone from rising and giving away his uncertainty.

The tall alien's wide, piercing gaze narrowed. "The factory district?" it said with an air of disbelief.

Fear prickled up Taylor's spine. He itched to run, and had to force himself to stay put. "R... right," he said, feeling queasy.

"Far to go with no money and no I.D.," the short alien remarked.

Taylor gave a slow shrug.

The tall alien's eyes narrowed to slits. For a moment it just frowned, and then gestured at Taylor's arms. Taylor had the sleeves of his jacket pulled down over his thumbs. "Let me see your wrist," the alien said.

Taylor froze. He looked from one alien to the other. He tried to smile, tried to play it off even though he knew he was cornered. "Wh-what... is this some kind of joke?" he chuckled dryly.

"Your _wrist_ ," the short alien repeated.

Taylor stared hard at the two, and shrugged the sleeve up his right arm and held it out, turning the bare skin of his wrist up to the light. The short alien relaxed a little. The taller gave Taylor's wrist the slightest glance and leveled his gaze back on Taylor. "The _other_ wrist," it said.

Taylor slowly let his arm drop. He grabbed his left hand and thumbed the tattered edge of the sleeve, as if to lift it up. Instead he turned on the spot and sprinted into the street. The gasp of surprise behind him was drowned out by the sharp hiss of air as hovercars jerked and swerved to avoid him. He made it to the other side of the street and began to sprint up the sidewalk, pushing past aliens as he ran blindly. He threw himself around a corner down a side street.

Behind him he could hear a commotion, and the thud of heavy feet. He risked glancing over his shoulder to catch the bounding, auburn blur of the Mantrin girl following him, the box still clutched in her arms. He was right; she was extremely fast. He pushed himself to run faster, but watching out for cars and debris in the street and dodging pedestrians was slowing him down. In several long strides, the Mantrin overtook him. He felt a clawed hand clutch the back of his shirt, and for a second Taylor thought it was over. To his shock, she did not wrench him to a halt; instead, she practically threw him around a corner into a narrow side street. " _This way!_ " she hissed. Taylor stumbled and tried to keep running, but his legs were burning and exhaustion was creeping in. He felt a hand wrap around his middle and lift him off the ground. His vision jumped around wildly as the Mantrin carried him down back alleys in a complicated pattern – left, right, left, left – he could practically feel his brain rattling around inside his skull. Suddenly he was pulled into short, dead-end alley and pressed against the wall. The Mantrin set down the box and crouched behind a stack of debris in front of him, hiding them both from view. For several moments they just listened to the muted sounds of the city, craning for the sound of pursuing feet. Taylor tried to muffle his breath with his hands, hardly daring to breathe, though his lungs screamed for air.

When after a while it became clear that they were not being followed, and Taylor's breath had slowed, the Mantrin slowly stood up. She leaned cautiously out of the alley, ears pricked. She turned back to Taylor and put her hands on her hips. "Okay, what was _that_ all about?" she said.

Taylor pushed shakily away from the wall and made to walk around her. "Thanks but, it was nothing, really," he sighed.

The alley was so narrow that she easily blocked it. "Nuh-uh! You're not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on!"

Taylor frowned. Despite the alien's size, the residual fear of being caught was more powerful than his fear of her, and he could only feel annoyed. "It's none of your business."

She lashed her tail, narrowly avoiding toppling a stack of metal canisters. "I could get in big trouble, you know!"

"You'll get in bigger trouble if you stick your beak where it doesn't belong," Taylor snapped back.

The girl's eyes narrowed. Quick as a flash, she seized his left arm with one hand, and pushed the sleeve of his jacket up with the other. Taylor let out a sharp hiss, partly out of the pain of her grip, but mostly out of shock. She gazed down at the numbers on his wrist, then turned her golden gaze to him. "Why didn't you tell me?" she said.

"Not exactly something I want to broadcast," Taylor muttered. Her grip loosened and he wrenched his arm back, scrambling to pull the sleeve back down over his thumb.

She leaned back on her heels, tail settling against the ground. "Why didn't you just show them?"

Taylor gave her a level stare, and glanced away. "Why do you think?"

She stared at him for a moment, and let out a gasp that made Taylor jump. "You didn't... _run away_?" she cried, whispering the last words as if uttering a forbidden swear. Taylor said nothing in response, reaching up to pull the hood back up over his head. He glanced up to see her gazing at him with a quizzical look. "But... why would you want to do that?"

"Why wouldn't I?" He sidled his way around her and began to amble into the alleyway. With no sense of direction or idea of where to go, except to get as far away from where he had been as possible, he hung a right and began to walk.

Behind him, he could hear the heavy _whump_ of the girl's footfalls as she bounded after him. "My master is very kind. I'd never... _run away_ ," she said behind him.

"Good for you," Taylor grumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Is your master mean to you?"

"No. We have a great time," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. He was tired, he was hungry, and now thanks to this girl, he would have to search for somewhere entirely different to scrounge for food and a place to sleep.

"But where are you gonna _go_?"

"I don't know. Away. From here." _Away from you_ , he silently added.

"Oh... then, you're going the wrong way."

Taylor froze and spun around. The Mantrin stared back at him, face still wrenched between pity and confusion. It only made him feel more irritated. "Look, I really appreciate your help and all, but you really should just go back wherever you came from and forget about it."

She ignored him, swinging her tail thoughtfully. "I wanna help!" she said.

"Unless you got a lot of credits or know somewhere I can stay, you can't help," he said flatly.

"I don't have any credits, but you could always stay with me."

Taylor pushed past her and began to walk in the opposite direction. "No."

She trotted after him. "Why not?"

" _No._ "

"Come on! You don't have anywhere to go, right?" She reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder, grinding him to a halt. Taylor hesitated, and she began to drag him out of the alley. "Come on, let's go, let's go!"  

He sighed and began to follow her.


	16. Chapter 16

They arrived at a small storefront, wedged into a market row of thrift shops and grocers. The door was so narrow that the Mantrin girl had to shuffle sideways to get past the doorframe. Taylor followed her inside. Somewhere, a bell tinkled as the door creaked shut behind him.

Every inch of the shop was covered in electronics – most of it just bits and pieces of scrap, from what Taylor could see. It was piled in teetering, precarious stacks so thick and high that Taylor could not see the corners or the walls of the room, except for a bit below the ceiling fifteen feet above his head. Most of the soft, cool light filtering down from the ceiling lamps was overshadowed by the junk, and Taylor had to squint to make out any open floor space. The girl squeezed herself along a narrow path winding through the rubble, tail just barely avoiding setting off an avalanche. She rose up on her long legs to peer over the piles of junk. "Master? Master, are you in here?"

"Don't call me that, please," a voice called from somewhere in the back corner. The voice was masculine, and had a distinct brogue that Taylor couldn't place. He followed the girl until she turned around a scrap pile into a brighter area. He heard the distinct thump and rattle of the Mantrin's box being thrown down on a counter. "Find anything good?"

"Mmm..." There was a loud clanking as the contents of the box were shuffled around. "Oh, I found this!"

"A flux converter? Hmm... yeah, it's in decent shape." More clanking. "Now this is a _real_ find."

Taylor could feel himself zoning out, the way he often did whenever Cale was trying to explain one of his inventions and was getting too technical. He glanced around the room while the two chattered, but there were too many things to look at, and he didn't dare touch anything for fear of bringing the whole place down. He was starting to rethink coming here. Though the Mantrin girl seemed alright, what was her master like? Would he really be sympathetic to Taylor? He doubted it. Now was the best time to leave. He turned back towards the door, and was just about to walk when he registered a faint pressure against his toe. He tried to pull his foot back, but it was too late; a small piece of metal dislodged itself from the pile and skittered across the ground. The voices on the other side of the heap dropped off. Taylor froze.

"What was that?"

"Huh? I didn't hear anything," the girl's voice squeaked.

There was a pause, and the other voice said, "Iris... I know that look."

"What? What look?"

" _That_ look. What is it this time?"

"Nothing! It's nothing!"

"You can't bring home every stray mutt you find on the street. The last one pissed on half the store!"

"I said I was sorry about that," the girl, Iris, muttered. "Besides, this one's different!"

"Oh, right? How so?"

Well, there was not much point in trying to hide now. Slowly, Taylor emerged from around the pile and peered into the corner of the room.

Iris was standing next to a high work bench. The contents of the box were spread out along the surface, glinting in the glare of a work light hanging from the ceiling. On the other side of the bench from Iris was the owner of the other voice, and Taylor was sure that he was as stunned to see Taylor as Taylor was to see him.

He was human. Tall, though not as tall as Iris, with a slight build well-suited to carrying around the electronic scrap and not much else. He had a wide, boxy face, and did not look to be too far out of his twenties (Taylor couldn't be sure; all adults looked the same to him). He had very short, rust-orange hair that looked as if it had been cut at random. Thick stubble in the same color ran down the sides of his jaw. He was wearing a long shop apron smeared with oil and grease, and his sleeves were rolled up almost to his shoulders.

For a long moment the two humans just stared at one another. Though at first Taylor was relieved to see another human (after seeing Iris, he was imagining something practically monstrous as her master), he couldn't help the flicker of fear that ran through him. He had no reason to trust humans, and he wasn't at all encouraged to find another that was a slave-owner as well. Now he was feeling serious regrets about following Iris, but he held his ground and set his jaw.

The man's gaze darted to Iris, who grinned sheepishly. "What's this then?" he said. Up close without all the metal in the way, Taylor noticed the accent even more. He tried to place it with what he had learned as a child about human culture. Irish? Scottish?

Iris wrung her hands. "Uh... well... I was on my way back from the market, and I, uh... might've almost stepped on him."

"Stepped on him," the man said, gazed focused on her.

Iris slunk back a little. "And uh... I might've..." Her voice dropped to a near whisper. "Helped him get away from the police."

"The _police?_ " he groaned, rubbing his face with his palm. " _Iris_..."

Taylor's resolve weakened hearing what he knew would be a fight. He wasn't sure what kind of person this man was, but while he found Iris annoying at best, he didn't want her to get hurt. "I'm sorry, sir," he said, stepping forward and bowing his head slightly. The man's gaze swung back to Taylor. "It's my fault. Please don't hurt her."

The man blinked and, to Taylor's surprise, startled to chuckle. "Huh? Why would I hurt her? Funny little thing, aren't you?" Taylor raised his head. The man crossed his arms and looked Taylor up and down. "Well, you're no street mutt, that's for sure. Don't look like you'd last another day out there."

"He said he was 'broke'," Iris chimed in.

"What were you doing at the mall, then?"

Taylor's eyes fell to the ground. "Uh, I... I was... begging," he mumbled.

Iris made a noise like she had just seen an adorable puppy. The man rolled his eyes. "How was that going for you?" he said.

Taylor fished a handful of credits out of his pocket and held them out. The man stepped around the bench and gazed down at the credits in Taylor's hand and plucked one out of the meager pile. Taylor uttered a gasp of protest, but the man smiled.

"I won't ask how it is you're on the run from the cops, and you won't tell me. And," he held up the credit, "you can stay, but I'll hang onto this."

Taylor gaped, confused. "Uh... sure... sir."

Iris jumped up and down. Somewhere, some poor piece of machinery toppled off a pile and crashed to the ground.

The man glanced in the direction of the noise and sighed. He flipped the coin in the air and pocketed it. "Name's Fingal, by the way," he said. He gestured to Iris, who beamed back at him. "And this is Iris."

Taylor looked from one to the other. He couldn't think of a pseudonym off the top of his head; in the pressure of the moment he felt he might be safe with a name Johann didn't know. "I'm Tai," he said.

"Well, Tai," Fingal began, holding out his right hand. Taylor took it reluctantly. "Welcome to the neighborhood." He shook Taylor's hand vigorously, leaving Taylor feeling dizzy. Fingal released Taylor's hand and massaged his forehead. "Ugh, I've got a headache... I gotta lie down... Iris, mind the shop, will you?"

Iris nodded, thumping her tail against the ground. The items on the workbench rattled. "Yes, Master!"

"Iris, I told you..." he groaned.

"Thank you, Master!"

Fingal sighed and turned towards a door in the corner. "Keep an eye on him, will you? He's staying with you."

"Yes!"

He stumbled to the door and slumped against the handle. "Make sure to lock up."

"Sir!"

He pulled the door open and stepped into a dark room. "And keep it down."

"I won't make a peep!"

Taylor could hear Fingal's feet pounding up a flight of steps. Faintly, he heard: "And for God's sake, there better not be piss on anything!"

Iris craned her neck, listening to the footsteps die away as they climbed out of earshot. She turned to smile at Taylor. "See, I told you he was nice!" she said.

Taylor gave a slow shrug. He wasn't about to complain.

She began to pick up the scraps off the workbench and pile them back inside the box. "I've known Master since I was really little," she said. "He saved me from some Govort traders who wanted to sell me into a fighting ring." Iris picked up the box and began to walk around the shop. She picked up each item of the box, examined it, and took it to a coordinating stack. If there was any sort of organization to the layout of the shop, Taylor couldn't place it. As Iris worked, she kept talking. "He's tried to set me free lots of times, but I swore I'd protect him forever." She paused when she said this, and beamed at Taylor in pride. "He's even tried to pay me! But I don't want money."

Taylor found a stool under the workbench and pulled it out, sitting down. He realized that Iris was waiting for some sign of approval. "Uh, yeah... that's great," he said.

Satisfied, she turned and disappeared behind the stacks of junk. He could just see the tips of her ears floating around the store, and the bangs and rattles of machinery being placed and rearranged. "You don't feel like that about your master?" she called.

"N-no, not really," he said, coughing as a cloud of dust floated by him. "Actually I don't think he likes me very much, either."

Iris reappeared around the corner, holding an empty box. Her eyes were wide with fascination. "Why not?"

Taylor shrugged. "I don't know, I guess I... make him mad."

Iris set the box on the bench and sat back on her heels. "Well, maybe if you didn't run away, he wouldn't be mad!" she said, crossing her arms.

Taylor couldn't think of anything to say to this. Despite himself, he felt the corner of his mouth turn up. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

She stared at him for a moment. "There isn't anyone who misses you?"

The thought stunned him. He choked down a lump in his throat. _Keep it together, Taylor_. "I... I don't know. I want to help them. I just... want to go home."

Iris tilted her head. "Then why not just go back? I'm sure if you say you're sorry, they won't be mad."

Taylor shook his head; he didn't want to get into explaining what he meant.

"Even if your master is mean to you, it can't be as bad as begging on the street, can it?"

Taylor pushed himself off the stool. "Iris, I... really don't want to talk about this anymore."

Iris blinked, ears drooping. "Oh... sorry." She turned and disappeared around the stacks of machinery. Taylor could hear her heavy footsteps thudding all the way to the door, the click of a lock and the screech of metal shutters, and her footsteps trudge all the way back around the corner. Her face brightened. "Hey, want some food?"

Just the mention of food brought on a fresh wave of hunger pangs for Taylor. He nodded and she grabbed his hand, half leading and half dragging him towards the door Fingal had disappeared through. The lights blinked out behind them as Iris kicked the door shut.

* * *

Later that night, Taylor lay in a tangle of blankets on the floor of Iris' small room, staring up at the dark ceiling. Iris was fast asleep in a hammock next to him, her long legs spilling over onto the floor, twitching occasionally. He was full, warm and dry for the first time since he made a run for the canyons. With his mind off of his immediate needs, he found his thoughts wandering to dangerous, uncomfortable places. The harder he tried to clear his mind and just go to sleep, the more his thoughts jumped around.

This was the third night he had spent away from the farm. Somehow, he had thought that simply getting away would change things, would free him, but his thoughts were constantly brought back to what he had left behind. What did the others think about him? Would they be happy he got away, or angry he had left them behind? Was Cody alright? What was Johann doing about it? Or Corinne? Thinking about her made him shiver, and he burrowed further under the blankets. In the back of his mind, he turned over what Iris had said. Did anyone miss him? Did Dover, with all his apologies and advances of friendship? Did Corinne, with her professions of love and sympathy? While he didn't carry a particular affinity with any of the other children, after spending so much time around them, would they even notice or care about his absence?

The possibilities didn't bother him as much as the idea that he, in some way, might actually miss _them_. He had fought, struggled, not to get close to anyone at the farm. He had failed miserably at it. He loved Melody, a loss that still cut across his heart and festered. All the children at the farm became so familiar to him that it was difficult not to recall their faces now, the sound of their voices. Monifa's admonitions, Dover's laugh, Kanya's snappy wit... even Ric's indistinct, sulky muttering. In contrast, it was difficult to even remember the color of Cale's eyes, the unique thud of his footsteps, the tone of voice he used when talking about an invention. He realized that, beyond the occasional reminder, he thought about Cale as much as any of the children that had passed away, and certainly not as much as Melody. When had he put Cale away from his mind? At one point did he start to consider himself separated irreparably from his old life?

He was struck with the realization that he had no idea where he was running to – what he was trying to get back to. What was the point of trying to get back to Vusstra – to Cale, Tek, and Iji? If Taylor had managed to stop thinking about them, at what point had they stopped thinking about him? Part of him knew that there was a bigger gap between them now than distance. Deep down, he began to see it wasn't possible to return to that old way of life, that quiet, sheltered existence on Vusstra. Too much had happened that he would not be able to put away; he had seen too much, experienced too much. He was starting to see the endless chasm between himself and the Cale he remembered. Would Cale be able to understand any of what he had gone through? Would he even care? Or would it frighten him too much?

Would Cale even want him back?

The thought brought unbidden tears to his eyes, and he pulled the blanket over his head. He listened to the strained puff of his own breathing, felt the warm, moist air sink back onto his face.

He didn't feel free now. The familiarity and the drudgery of his daily life back on the farm felt almost welcome in comparison to the constant, aching worry of being caught, of finding food or a place to sleep. On the farm he got just enough food not to starve, but he never had to think about earning it. The accommodations of the dorm were meager at best, but he stayed dry when it rained, and warm when it was cold. His bed was always in the same spot, waiting for him. Even his abuse at the hands of Johann and Corinne seemed, in some twisted way, comfortable and familiar. Expected. He didn't know what to expect now. He was only left with a sea of questions. Where would he go tomorrow? At what point would his luck run out?

When had the outside world started to seem alien and frightening, and that place like home?

The air around him had grown unbearably hot; he had been hyperventilating. He pulled the blanket off his face and took a long, slow gulp of fresh air. Taylor could hear his heart beating in his ears so loud that he was sure it would wake up Iris. He turned on his side and tried to focus on the current moment. None of these thoughts mattered. What was important _now_? Getting to sleep. He rolled on his side and closed his eyes. He listened to his breathing die down, until it was drowned out by Iris' snores. He forced himself to focus on the in and out of her breath, until he could no longer tell the difference, and there was nothing on his mind anymore but a hazy confusion, and he fell asleep.

* * *

Taylor's eyes snapped open. There was only a slight change in the quality of light in the room, but it was enough to pull him out of the depths of sleep as if lifted by a crane. After so many mornings of waking up at the same exact time, it was impossible to go back to sleep now. He pushed himself out of his cocoon of blankets and blinked around. The room looked much the same as he last remembered it, except that Iris had somehow managed to flip around in her sleep, and her tail was now where her head had been. Quietly, he shrugged off the blankets and tiptoed to the door, and out into the small common area that made up the back room.

Most of the room was occupied by boxes of tools and components, relatively neat in comparison to the state of the shop. A kitchenette was set up in a corner, with a round table and a chair sitting not far from it. These touches were distinctly human; Iris did not even bother with cooking her food, and was much too tall to bother with chairs or tables. A set of stairs led up to the second floor above the shop. He headed purposefully to the door to the bathroom. Reemerging back into the kitchen feeling somewhat refreshed, he settled himself into the chair, listening to the stirring of the city life outside the shop walls. Feeling it rude to snoop around their food stores, Taylor pulled the crumpled bag of fruit from his pocket and finished off the last of it, taking the edge off his hunger, at least.

Not long later, Iris appeared from her room, looking energetic. She instantly began to chatter, and Taylor only half listened as she pulled him out of the room and into the shop. He followed her around while she opened the shop, tidied up the products (or rather, nudged a few of the more stable items around), and pulled out a project to work on. The machine was fairly large and complicated, and for the first time Iris fell silent as she focused all her concentration on assessing the damage. Taylor sat on the stool at the work bench watching her, head in his hands, occasionally fetching a tool she needed out of a box. She asked him more questions about himself, which he dodged; failing at that, she began to chatter away about mechanics and particular customers and Fingal until Taylor felt dizzy. Fingal appeared later in the morning with a cup of something dark and steaming. He offered Taylor a taste, but Taylor found the stark, bitter taste unbearable. Fingal just laughed and turned his attention to directing Iris, correcting mistakes and offering encouragement. For lack of anything better to do, Taylor started to wander around the shop. Unwilling to disturb whatever order existed, he settled for just rearranging the piles of junk into less dangerous configurations.

The shop rarely received customers, and the few that came seemed to be regulars who, while slightly curious about Taylor, were too focused on their business to give him much thought or attention. Still, every time he heard the tinkle of the doorbell, he felt a twinge of fear. It wasn't unfounded. Later in the afternoon, he could see a pair of familiar silhouettes outside the dusty shop windows. He just had time to run to the back room before the two alien policemen stepped into the shop. Taylor peered around a crack in the door, watching. Fingal's eyes darted to him for a moment before fixing on the two aliens.

"Welcome! Can I help you?" Fingal said, leaning on the counter of the work bench.

Iris looked up from her work and scowled. Taylor could tell she recognized these two aliens as well. He could see her tail lashing dangerously behind the bench.

The aliens must have recognized her as well, because they glanced at her and muttered to one another. They did not seem at all fazed by the threatening glare that would send most species into a blind panic.

Fingal shot Iris a look, and she sank back on her heels a bit, ears set back. "Is there a problem, officers?" he said, abandoning some of the pretense of hospitality.

The tall alien broke away from the other and drew himself up. "We would like to speak to the one with authority over the Mantrin slave," he said, staring down the end of his snout at Fingal.

Fingal set his jaw. "Aye, that would be me," he said slowly.

The aliens exchanged glances. "Surely, not a human...?" the shorter one muttered.

"Yeah, that's right!" Iris snapped, slamming her hands down on the bench and startling both of the aliens. "What do you want with my master?" Fingal pressed a hand to Iris' arm and hissed a warning, and she leaned back and crossed her arms, thumping her tail.

"Anyway," the tall alien said, trying to regain his composure. "We have reason to believe the Mantrin aided, possibly even harbored, a runaway slave."

Fingal glared back at him. "What proof do you have of that?"

"We have reports that match the slave's description," the short alien piped up. "And they were last seen together."

"I repeat; do you have proof she helped this slave?" Fingal said.

The aliens exchanged glances. "Well, no," the short alien admitted.

"But we would be reassured," the taller one continued, "if you could provide some proof she did _not_."

"I think I would know if there was some rat hiding around my shop," Fingal snapped. Taylor slinked further back from the door. "But if one happens to turn up, I'll be the first to let you know. In the meantime, if you have no other business here, I'd appreciate it if you left."

There was a pause, and Taylor could hear the aliens mutter to one another and turn away. He heard the tinkle of the doorbell, and the aliens were gone. Taylor slumped against the wall beside the door and let out a sigh of relief.

"Master, I—" Iris began.

"Later, Iris," Fingal sighed. Taylor heard footsteps approach the door, and jumped out of the way just in time to avoid the door hitting him on the nose. Fingal caught sight of him and paused. In the darkness of the back room, it was difficult for Taylor to make out Fingal's expression.

"We need to talk," Fingal said.

Seeing no way out of this, Taylor nodded, and Fingal gestured to the table. Taylor pulled out the chair and sat down. Fingal crossed his arms and leaned against the edge of the table. Taylor couldn't bring himself to look up; he looked at the dirt under Fingal's nails, a chip in the side of the table, a stain on the floor.

"I know I said I wouldn't ask you about how you're on the run," Fingal began. "But if you choose to stay here then this is something I need to know."

Taylor swallowed and nodded again. Fingal held out one of his hands, palm up.

"Let me see your wrist."

Taylor felt the blood drain out of his arms. He was grasping the edges of the chair so tight that his knuckles paled. He let go of the chair and rubbed his arms. For a second he considered putting out his right arm. Slowly, he pulled the sleeve of his jacket down over the thumb of his left hand and rolled it up, balling his fist and holding it out to Fingal. The numbers, though etched with scar tissue, were as black and clear as they had ever been.

If Fingal was in any way surprised, he didn't show it. He nodded and pushed Taylor's hand away. "I already knew, before those two even came in here, but I was wondering if you'd be honest with me."

Taylor pulled the sleeve back down over his wrist, clenching it around his knuckles. For good measure, he folded his arms and clamped his hands to his sides. "H-how did you know?" he said, finding his mouth dry and his voice cracking.

Fingal turned to half sit, half lean on the edge of the table. "Do you want the full list or just a summary?" he said, lips twitching into a smirk.

Taylor frowned. "Is it that obvious?"

"You're uncharacteristically polite and timid for a boy your age, in _this_ neighborhood, let's leave it at that," Fingal said, smirking. "Let me guess, you've never been this far into the city, have you?"

Taylor could feel his cheeks burning as he shook his head.

"Figured as much. So, why did you run?"

Taylor blinked at Fingal, and his gaze drifted back to the table. What was there to say? Was there any one answer? At a loss for words, he took a deep, anxious breath and grabbed the sides of his jacket. He pulled it up over the top of his head, shaking the hair out of his eyes. A rush of cold air assaulted his bare arms and shoulders exposed by his thin, white shirt. Without its usual coating of dirt, his shirt appeared even whiter in comparison to the blotchy hue of his skin. In the cold, subdued lighting of the room, the thin, jagged lines of scar tissue on his arms stood out. Purple and yellow bruises of varying ages were scattered up to his shoulders and bled together into thick pools around his neck. It was obvious from the placement and the age of the marks that there was no single incident, no one reason to run.

Fingal recoiled slightly, hissing in empathy at the wounds. Taylor flinched and pulled the sleeves of the jacket back over his arms. Fingal was looking at him with an odd expression that Taylor had come to recognize as pity. It made him feel uncomfortable, vulnerable. He couldn't trust the intentions behind that expression. What was there to feel sorry about? How could Fingal possibly care?

Seeing Taylor's discomfort, Fingal gave a small smile. "We must seem really strange to you, eh? Me and Iris."

Taylor pulled the rest of the jacket back over his head and gazed as far up as Fingal's shoulder. He couldn't bring himself to express his real thoughts about this – that the two were the most alien beings to him that he had ever met.

"I'm sure she's already told you, but I stumbled over her years ago at the market," he said. "I don't know why I bought her. I guess I just couldn't take the thought of her being slaughtered for someone else's amusement." Fingal glanced away and scowled at the memory. Taylor looked down at his knees. "I didn't want to keep her. I never wanted her to feel like an object. To feel trapped here. But somehow, I'm stuck with her." He looked over at the door and smiled. "It makes a difference, how you are treated, doesn't it?"

Tears prickled at the edges of Taylor's eyes, and he fought to keep them back, to work the tightness out of his chest. He couldn't bring himself to dwell too heavily on the difference between himself and Iris. It was too stark, too painful to look at himself in that way. What was he to anyone now except an object? What purpose did his life have outside of the needs of others; where could he possibly belong now? As much as he longed, ached, to experience even a sliver of what Iris felt, he knew that he did not belong here. He could not imagine adjusting to the idea of _choice_. It was frightening, dangerous, painful.

Watching the thoughts play across Taylor's face, Fingal sighed and turned towards Taylor, leaning down to be closer to Taylor's level. "I gotta be honest with you," he said, dropping his voice. "If they can track Iris back here, it's just a matter of time 'til they figure out you're here. You can stay hidden for a while, but Iris' mean look is not going to keep them back for long."

Taylor paled at Fingal's words, but he knew it was the truth. The longer he stayed here, the more trouble he would inevitably cause the two. He nodded.

"The way I see it, you've got three options," Fingal said. He held up a finger. "You can keep running. If you manage to slip past the cops, pray you don't get picked up by organleggers or traffickers. This world is not a friendly place for someone like you and you can't count on some human-loving stranger to step on you in the market.

"Or." Fingal held up two fingers. "You turn yourself in, and figure out some way to weather through this and make peace with yourself. You don't have to give up. There will be other chances. From the looks of it, you've made it through a lot already. If you can come to terms with yourself, find something to hold onto, you'll survive."

Taylor had no idea what this meant. Going back (Taylor had to strike the word _home_ out of his mind) only seemed like the better of the two options now in comparison to how terrifying running had become. It was difficult to imagine another day, a week – a lifetime of running, of endless possibilities and choices and missteps. He swallowed and glanced up at Fingal. "What's the third option?"

Fingal's expression grew stern. "You end it here and now, and I take your body to the station to be thrown in the morgue."

Taylor stared back at Fingal, stunned. For a second he saw a flash of Kaelin's body lying in a dark pool beside the washbasin, the cold skin of his throat yawning around the long, bloodless gash. He saw Dover's grief-stricken face staring off across the horizon. No matter how painful things had gotten since that day, he had never once thought of following in Kaelin's footsteps.

Fingal sighed. "I know it sounds harsh. I'm not going to baby you. I can't pretend to know how things are for you, but you must know by now that is the way things are. "

Run, or go back. "It's not much of a choice," Taylor muttered.

Fingal leaned back and chuckled. "Welcome to being a grown-up," he said. Taylor tugged on the edges of his sleeves and frowned. Fingal pushed away from the table. "Don't have to decide now. It's up to you; only you know what's best for you." He patted Taylor on the shoulder, and Taylor winced. Fingal pushed past the door and swung it closed behind him, leaving Taylor alone at the table. Taylor stared at the door, and down at his hands.

He had no idea what was best for him. There was only one choice he could think of that was best for everyone else. Legs shaking, he pushed himself away from the chair and began to walk, past the stairs, down a narrow, crowded corridor. At the end was a door that lead to the back alley. He threw back the bolt lock and pushed the door open into the noon sunlight.


	17. Chapter 17

Now that he was back on the streets, Taylor realized he had no idea where to go. The city felt alive, constantly shifting and changing around the same old buildings, the same streets. He knew he needed to go back. Getting back was another issue entirely. Nothing looked familiar; he couldn't begin to guess where the police station was. Taylor decided instead to try and find the two aliens from the shop. They could not have gone far. He began to walk in the opposite direction of the shop, back towards the mall, following what little landmarks he could recognize. The journey was made all the more difficult by the fact that he had made most of the trip to Fingal's in a blind panic, and the other half lead by Iris. More and more he found himself making a turn and suddenly realizing that nothing looked familiar. Retracing his steps and starting again only worked for so long before nothing was recognizable, and he had no idea how close or how far he was to the mall, or how long he had been walking. Frustrated, he began to wander aimlessly, until he looked up and saw he had stepped into a dead end. He shook his head, and was about to turn around and go back the way he came when he heard voices echoing up the alley behind him.

The voices were loud and distinctly alien, unintelligible to Taylor apart from their brash tone. He could hear the crashes of dumpsters being thrown over. He turned around just in time to see a small gang of aliens amble up the alleyway. They were large enough to make Iris look like an overgrown kitten, and so ugly that it took Taylor a moment to discern their faces. A moment was all it took for one to glance his way and stop. The others ran into it, cursing and shrieking, before following its gaze back to Taylor.

Taylor froze. The aliens had begun to hoot and jeer and cut off the exit into the alley. The noise and the size of them was almost enough to make Taylor shut down in fear. It was only his experience with being cornered and outnumbered that jolted him to his senses and made him fall back on instinct. He felt a pang of irony at the thought that Dover had been right about teaching him. Before the aliens had put enough intelligence together between them to decide what to do with Taylor, he had already picked out the weakest to dart past and break into the alley. He took off at a dead sprint back down the alley, hearing a riot of confused shouts and angry snarls behind him.

Taylor burst out of the alley onto the main street and kept running. He could tell the aliens were still following him by the noise and devastation they left behind them. While a year of field work had given Taylor some stamina, the past few days had strained him to his limit, and he felt his legs burn in protest as he pushed himself forward. He decided to use his size to his advantage, slipping through the crowds on the sidewalk and ducking around narrow corners that the aliens had to crash through or detour around. The busier the area, the better for him, and the more commotion the chase caused. With a jolt, Taylor realized he had made it back to the mall. With another jolt, he ran headlong into the shorter of the two alien policemen.

The surprise of seeing Taylor again and the confusion of the gang struggling to double back was too much for the two, and at first they just gaped from Taylor to the mayhem behind him and did nothing. Sick with adrenaline, Taylor reeled and jerked to the side to start running again. The taller alien recovered enough of his senses to make a decision and leap for Taylor, pulling him back by the hood of his jacket, exposing his face.

"Look who it is!" the alien said. "Scurrying around here causing trouble all this time!"

Where Taylor was and what he was doing were coming back to him now that he had been caught. He watched the gang retreat with a small feeling of triumph. "Y-yeah, I was," he said, glaring at the alien.

"See, I told you he was here!" the shorter one said, making the taller one scowl.

"Let's just get him back to the station," the other snapped. "The chief's been chewing my head off over this one."

Taylor let the aliens pull his arms back into restraints and lead him away from the mall, towards a parked squad car. He watched the city speed past from the back seat, and as the adrenaline drained away, part of him wondered if he was really going home, or going to slaughter.

* * *

There was no way of telling how much time Taylor spent waiting, but by the time Johann showed up outside his cell and hauled him out of the precinct into the open air, the sun had begun to sink towards the horizon. Taylor had expected Johann to berate him on the spot, but instead, Taylor was met with a stony silence as they made the long drive back to the farm. This reception was not at all reassuring; if anything, it only made Taylor feel more anxious. Like sitting next to a time bomb that had exhausted its counter, and was either a dud, or would explode at any given second. Taylor was sure it was the latter. It was only a matter of when and how bad the explosion would be.

Taylor was not sure what he expected to see when he got back. He had seen so much in the past few days, that he had somehow expected to see the whole world shift to match what he had experienced. But the farm looked exactly the way he had left it, of course, and he could have laughed if his situation were not so precarious. The truck pulled up to the garage and Taylor was half lifted, half thrown out of the front seat and pushed towards the house.

Hamid was the only one in the field making a vain attempt at working. The rest of the children were huddled together in front of the dorm, and they jumped when they saw the truck pull up. Standing in front of them now, Taylor couldn't bring himself to look at their faces, too frightened to see their reactions. Johann gestured wordlessly at the ground beneath Taylor's feet and he understood the unspoken command: _stay_. Grunting, Johann turned and stomped up the stairs of the porch to the front door, and disappeared inside the house.

There was a pause where no one spoke or moved. Hamid left the fields and walked up to hover behind Kanya. Taylor stared down at the dirt beneath his feet.

"What'd you get yourself caught for?" a voice said. Taylor looked up to see Dover staring back at him, grimacing.

Taylor swept the hair out of his eyes and looked away. He had nothing to say in response to this. He glanced over the rest of the group, seeing similar expressions of disbelief, anger, and – to add to his dread – fear.

The screen door creaked, and Monifa and Nekane stepped onto the porch and down the steps to join the others. Nekane hid in the back of the group; Monifa shot Taylor a tearful look as she hurried past to join Nekane. He noticed she was clutching a small bundle to her chest. Johann was not far behind them, muttering to himself. When he reached the bottom of the steps he stood for a moment and just turned his head, searching. He looked up to the posts of the porch railing above Taylor's head and seemed to settle on something. Taylor felt his body tense as Johann walked up to him.

Taylor had prepared himself for a verbal lashing. He was so used to the pitch of Johann's voice, the venom of his words, that his rants no longer carried the same bite they once did. Perhaps Johann realized this, because he stood staring for a moment at the aloof, weary expression on Taylor's face. He puffed his cheeks and ground his jaw, brow furrowing, but the assault Taylor was expecting didn't come. Instead, Johann turned away and took a few steps towards Monifa. Nekane and Kayla jumped out of the way.

"Give it to me," Johann said in a low, even voice, holding out a broad hand towards Monifa. She hesitated, but held out the wrapped bundle, which Johann snatched so fast that Monifa and everyone around her flinched.

Taylor remained in the same spot, confused, as Johann turned away and stepped back towards him. Johann tossed the bundle down and Taylor saw the flash of shackles in his hands. Taylor was so overcome with a wave of dread that he did not hear what Johann said the first time. "What, sir?"

"I said take off your shirt," Johann growled.

Taylor was too fixated on the shackles to puzzle over this request. He pulled the mud-crusted jacket over his head and tossed it aside, and the thin shirt after it. The metal pendant thunked against his sternum and he jumped a little at the sound; he had forgotten he was wearing it. He made to take the necklace off and hide it, but Johann bridged the gap between them in two steps and ripped it from Taylor's hand before he could pocket it, tossing it aside. Taylor caught a glimpse of it hitting the lattice and disappearing in the space underneath the porch. Only his confusion and fear kept him frozen to the spot and not immediately scrambling after it.

"You have a nice time in the city, boy?" Johann said, turning the shackles over in his hands.

"N-no, sir," Taylor said, staring down at Johann's knuckles.

"Really? Because that's not the way I heard it," Johann said. "You even managed to get some cash out of it. Groveling and sniveling for spare change, like the low-life piece of shit you are."

Taylor said nothing. He gazed at a bit of rust – or was it dried blood? – that had formed along the edges of the shackles.

"I told you the first day I brought you here," Johann continued, "that there is nowhere for you to go. Still you insist on being a miserable, disrespectful brat. You stole from me, and you've made a fool out of me. You've made everyone suffer for your insolence, and it's only right to return the favor." Johann turned to glance over at Dover, who was staring down at the ground. Feeling Johann's eyes on him, Dover flinched to attention. "Isn't that right, boy?"

Dover gave Johann a long look before his eyes flickered over to Taylor and back down to the ground. "Yes, sir," he said in a small voice.

Taylor felt his chest tighten. The mix of anger and sadness on Dover's face was somehow, to him, much more painful than anything Johann was saying. _Why should I care what Dover thinks? He's probably just disappointed I made it back alive_ , Taylor thought, but the words didn't seem to fit.

Satisfied, Johann looked back to Taylor, and his mouth became a thin line. "Turn around," he said.

Taylor shook his head a little, trying to focus. His body responded to the command before he could process it, turning on the spot to face the corner of the porch. He saw Johann step to his side out of the corner of his eye.

"Put your arms up," Johann said, and Taylor slowly raised his arms above his head. _What is he doing?_ Taylor thought as Johann brought his wrists together and yanked him closer to the porch, until his nose almost touched the post. He heard the rolling click of the shackles being opened and the cold snap of first one, and then the other on his wrists. He leaned back slightly and immediately felt resistance. He looked up to see that Johann had shackled his wrists around the corner post just above the railing, high enough above Taylor's head that his arms were held up almost straight. He could not lean farther than a few inches from the post without the shackles digging into the skin of his wrists. He could already feel the strain of holding his arms up to keep from putting weight on the shackles. Confusion and the awkward vulnerability of the position sent panic coursing through him. _What is this? What's going on?_

Behind him, he could hear Johann's heavy feet shuffling across the dirt, back to the bundle on the ground. Taylor could not turn his head far enough in either direction to see what Johann was doing. Out of the corner of his right eye, he saw Johann pull something like a long rope out of the bag. He heard a soft choking sound and realized Nekane was crying. A sharp pain in his neck forced him to turn his head back to the post. He glanced over at the others on his left. Some looked just as confused as Taylor felt. Only a few seemed to have any idea what was going on: Nekane, who was being held by a very stunned-looking Monifa; Jareth, who was looking determinedly out to where the sun was setting on the horizon and avoiding the scene altogether; and Dover, who was pale with fear.

There was a crack like a gunshot and Taylor nearly jumped out of his skin. He saw everyone wince out of the corner of his eyes; Hamid was so frightened by the sound and whatever he had seen that he had to scramble to stay upright. It was only knowing that he had never seen Johann with a gun, and that whatever Johann had taken out of the bag looked nothing like one, that Taylor was able to reassure himself that he wasn't about to be gunned down in front of everyone. He was sure whatever made that sound must be some sort of weapon, and he felt a chill of fear.

Nekane had begun to wail. "Shut up!" Johann snapped. Taylor heard another sharp crack, and Nekane gave a shriek and fell silent. "Now, I'm starting with five. If I hear so much as a peep out of anyone, I start over. That includes you, boy."

Taylor could tell from the direction of Johann's voice that the last bit was meant for him. _Five? Five what?_ There was a pause, and Taylor had only begun to put the pieces together when he heard a distinctive whoosh of air and an ear-splitting crack. The sound was only matched by the searing pain that ripped across his bare back, and he screamed, as much out of shock as pain. It was like nothing he had ever felt; the pain was so sharp and so intense, as if a great beast had raked its claws across his skin and then set it aflame. Even though the blow was over, he could still feel it burning. The blow and the shock of the pain had hit him both so hard that he slammed his face against the post, and he could feel the hot trickle of blood streaming from his nose.

"Let's try that again," Johann said, and in that moment Taylor realized that Johann had not planned on a _verbal_ lashing to begin with.

Taylor barely had time to brace himself before the crack sounded behind his ears once more, and he was assaulted with a fresh wave of pain. It hit the still-stinging sore of the previous blow, and he had to clench his teeth to keep from crying out, the pain was so excruciating. He realized he was leaning his weight on the shackles, and tried to press himself to the post and hold onto the rail to absorb some of the shock of the next blow. This one lashed across his lower back, and he jumped. _Crack_. The next blow settled diagonally across the previous hits, and through the haze of pain he could feel something hot bubble out of the searing gash in his skin. _Crack_ , and he could feel the blows gaining force with the practice of Johann's arm, and he had less time to brace himself before the next blow _crack_ ripped across his back with a pain so intense he couldn't help the agonized scream that escaped his lips. There was a slight pause, and the dread alone of knowing Johann was starting over again nearly broke him.

 _Crack crack crack_. The bite of the whip became a living thing, tearing into his skin with its claws, shredding his nerves and chewing on his spinal cord. His ears rang; he could no longer hold himself up on the rail and dangled from his wrists, the pain of the shackles becoming lost in the flames consuming his back. His legs shook and struggled to support his weight. Tears of pain squeezed past his clenched eyes and streamed down his cheeks. _Crack crack_ , the bite of the whip dug into his skin and tore a long gash from his shoulder to his waist, and he howled.

Again it started over, and Taylor lost count of the succession of blows; he could no longer feel his back, could no longer feel anything except an unbearable wall of pain. The crack of the whip was lost in his ears, and he could only tell he was screaming from the rush of air in his mouth, the gripping strain in his lungs. His legs gave out altogether, and he could no longer feel anything but the weight of hanging from the shackles. His lungs collapsed and he knew he could not scream anymore, but someone must have been screaming, because the blows didn't stop. It became impossible to distinguish them from one another. His vision swam and the world tilted. There was no pain, nothing, and he felt himself drawn back into nothing so quickly that he thought, surely, this must be what it feels like to die. He blinked once, twice, and could no longer open his eyes, and there was black.

* * *

Taylor's eyes blinked open to a blur of cream and blue. He scrunched up his face and squinted, until the colors spun and shifted to form the outlines of an old white sheet, the cool shadows of the room around him. He was lying on his stomach, and he made to push himself up to get a better look around—

Pain shot up his spine to his forehead so violently that he yelped and collapsed face-first into a pillow. There was a crash and the tinkle of glass, and he realized he wasn't the only one in the room.

"Shit!" a voice swore. "Of course, he wakes up when it's _my_ turn to check." Taylor recognized the whining, sulky tone as Ric. There was the thud of footsteps, and the creak and slam of a screen door, and it was quiet.

His whole back stung as if being ripped open with serrated knives, and he lay hissing for a moment, trying not to move in the vain hope the pain would subside. He turned his head slowly to free his nose, and looked around.

He was in the overseer's cabin, lying on the same bed he last saw Melody on. Ric had knocked over an empty antiseptic bottle. There was a small assortment of medical supplies on the cabinet: rolls of bandages and tape, a large bowl, amber-tinted bottles of antiseptic. The air had the acrid scent of hydrogen peroxide and blood. Through the haze of pain he could feel the gentle warmth of the morning sunlight on his back and shoulders.

Taylor pulled his hand up to the level of his eyes and felt a sting of shock to see that his hand was heavily bandaged, from his palm down to his wrist. The bandages were brown with old blood. He winced as he shrugged the loose bandages over his thumb to pool around his wrist. He felt his gut twist to see the angry, circular wheals wrapping around his wrist and the back of his hand, swollen with puss and crusted with broken scabs. He turned his left wrist and felt a similar pain, and he imagined it looked much the same. He craned his neck to try and see over his shoulder, but the attempt only sent a fresh wave of pain ripping across his back, and he groaned.

He could not remember how he got here, or how long he had been here. The last thing he remembered was a blurry image of the porch. He wondered what happened after he passed out. If his wrists were this torn apart, what did his back look like? He couldn't move at all to look at it, but if it hurt just to move his head, he knew it must be pretty bad. _Just how many times did he hit me with that thing?_ he thought.

Before he could puzzle over it any further, he heard footsteps approaching the cabin. They vaulted up the steps and the screen door flung open. Taylor tilted his head up to see a very flustered Dover step into view. He was panting, as if he had been running. Taylor frowned. _Well,_ almost _the last person I'd like to see_.

"Hey, you're awake?" Dover said.

"Unfortunately," Taylor muttered.

Dover stepped closer to the bed, and his eyes strayed to the loose bandages on Taylor's wrist. He ran a hand through his hair. "Did you take that off? You shouldn't do that," he said, picking up Taylor's arm and unwinding the soiled bandages from his wrist. Even the slight movements of his arm caused wrenches of pain in his back, and he grimaced.

"It's dirty anyway," Taylor grumbled.

Dover shot him an exasperated look. "Yeah, that'll happen if you flail around and scrape your wounds open," he said.

"I wasn't flailing," Taylor said.

Dover sighed and tossed the soiled bandages into the bowl, which Taylor realized was filled with water. He grabbed a fresh roll of bandages and tape and pulled up a chair. He began to wrap the new bandages somewhat clumsily around the wounds on Taylor's wrist. Taylor watched him lazily, too exhausted from the pain to interfere with Dover's attempts at first aid. "Where'd you learn to do that?"

Dover's green eyes darted up for a moment, then back down to his hands. "Monifa showed me," he said.

"Well you kind of suck at it," Taylor said.

The edge of Dover's mouth twitched, and he taped the end of the bandage down and tossed Taylor's hand back on the bed. Taylor winced. Dover stood up and stepped over to the cabinet to grab the bowl and a bottle of antiseptic, and sat back down. He leaned out of Taylor's sight, and Taylor felt something heavy pulled off his back, the pressure making his wounds throb. He saw Dover dunk a thick piece of cloth, soaked with blood, into the bowl of water. He poured the antiseptic on a small towel and began to blot the wounds with it. It stung so sharply when it contacted Taylor's skin that he choked down a scream.

" _Fuck!_ That hurts!" Taylor spat, making a feeble attempt to push Dover's arm away.

Dover just wrinkled his nose and elbowed Taylor's hand back to the bed. "You want to go the same way as Melody, be my guest," he said.

Taylor glared, but kept his protests to himself while Dover finished cleaning the wound. Dover pulled the wet cloth out of the bowl and laid it back across Taylor's back. The pressure hurt at first, but the cool water was soothing, and Taylor sighed with relief. He watched as Dover repeated the same thing over with another piece of cloth, working his way down Taylor's back.

"How long have you been doing this?" Taylor asked.

Dover tilted his head. "Three days." At the look of shock on Taylor's face, he shrugged. "Not surprised you don't remember, you were barely conscious." After a pause, he added, "It's not just me. Everyone's taking turns."

Taylor tried to look over his shoulder, but could not see any of what Dover was doing. "Is... is it that bad?"

Dover glanced back at him. "He would have killed you," he said in a low voice. "I thought you _were_ dead, before we took you down."

"He wouldn't have done it," Taylor said.

Dover tossed a piece of blood-stained cloth into the bowl. "You didn't see him, after you left. He was wild, frantic. I've never seen him so angry, never. Believe me, he would have killed you if we hadn't've stopped him."

"Then why did you?"

"What?"

"Stop him."

Dover paused in the middle of wringing out the cloth and stared at Taylor.

"I mean, I thought you hated me," Taylor said, a little weakly.

Dover looked away and returned the cloth to Taylor's back. "No." He grinned. "Why, do you hate _me_?"

Taylor blinked and bit his lip. "I don't know, it comes and goes."

Dover gave a snort of laughter and set the dirty bowl of water on the ground. "Is that why you left?"

Taylor's gaze drifted up to the fresh bandage wrapped around his wrist. "No. I don't know. I just ran." He rubbed his face with his hand. "I was scared, I guess."

Dover leaned his elbows on his knees. "No shit. Everybody's scared." He watched Taylor trace the patterns of crusted blood stains on the mattress cover. "Was it Corinne?"

Taylor froze, staring at his fingers.

Dover sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Believe it or not, there are worse things in this world than having sex, Taylor," he muttered.

Taylor's eyes flickered up to him. "It's not sex," he said. "It's ra—"

He was cut off by Dover slamming his fists on the edge of the bed. "It's a bad excuse and you know it!" he snapped. "You're not the only one, you know! Why didn't you tell me?"

Taylor winced. "I don't know... I didn't think to... I didn't think I'd do it..."

Dover threw himself back into the chair and crossed his arms, frowning. "Still. I could have helped you. Don't you trust me?"

Taylor could not help reacting to Dover's hurt anger with his own. "Actually, no, I don't," he spat. "In case you forgot, you raped me."

This hit Dover like a gunshot to the chest, and he flinched. There was a heavy silence as Dover stared over at the door, absently rocking back and forth on the chair's back legs. Taylor watched him for a moment, feeling his anger drain at the slight shimmer at the edge of Dover's eye. Breath hissed from Dover's nose in strained bursts.

Taylor looked away. He already regretted bringing it up; he was sore and tired, so tired. "Is Cody okay?" Taylor muttered.

Dover scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his arm. "Yeah, he's fine."

Taylor took a deep breath and drew up his courage to ask the question he had dreaded most. "She didn't... do anything to him because of me, did she?"

Dover shook his head. "No... I think she knew you'd be back."

Taylor frowned. He didn't remember seeing Corinne at all when he got back. How had she been so sure he would be back? More importantly, why hadn't she tried to stop Johann? He had always been confused about her, but now he was starting to feel the stirrings of true hatred towards her, and the pain she had caused both him and Dover. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

"I... do you think that... she'll try to hurt him, one day?" he said. Dover looked down at him in surprise. "I mean... what she does to us?"

Dover let the chair drop back to the ground. "I don't know... I never really thought about it." He clenched his jaw. "But... I won't let that happen. After all, we'll both probably be a lot older and bigger then, right? We can stop her."

Taylor hesitated to say that their size had nothing to do with it, but the confidence in Dover's eyes made him drop the point. "Yeah, I guess so."

Dover gave a slight smile. "So... I got time. Tell me where you went."

With no way to move and nothing better to do, Taylor told Dover all about the path through the canyons, the slums, begging for change. The image of Taylor begging sent Dover into a fit of laughter that derailed Taylor's recap for several minutes, and Dover had to plead to get Taylor to continue. He told Dover about being nearly trampled by Iris, and the chase through the city to get away from the police. He talked about Iris and how she refused to leave her master, and Fingal, who treated Iris with respect and talked straight to him. Dover agreed that Iris was extremely strange, and Fingal even more so, especially after Taylor explained what Fingal had said to him.

"I don't get it, though," Dover said, leaning back in the chair. "If they were both so great, why didn't you just stay there with them?"

"The cops were suspicious of them," Taylor said. "I didn't want to get them in trouble."

"The cops would have given up eventually if they didn't find anything, right? Those guys liked you. They covered for you. I'm sure they would have helped."

Taylor frowned. "You don't get it," he mumbled.

"What's there to get? God, that is so like you," Dover snickered. "You probably would have torn the skin off your own back if Master asked."

"I'm not like that!" Taylor protested, scowling.

"Like hell you're not. After what you did for Melody, and now Cody? Please."

Taylor glared, but could not think of any retort to this.

Dover pushed forward, leaning his elbows on the bed. "What I don't understand is why you'd fuck things up on purpose just to come back _here_." He studied Taylor's face for a moment, and grinned. "Miss me?"

Taylor felt his cheeks burn. "You weren't there, you didn't see what it was like. It was scary. I... I thought it would be safer here."

Dover gave a snort of laughter and nodded towards Taylor's back. "Sure as hell were wrong about _that_."

Taylor glowered. "I haven't given up. I just... need a better plan."

Dover leaned down and scooped up the bowl off the floor. "Yeah, if you think of one, let me know," he chuckled. He took the bowl to the adjoining bathroom, and Taylor heard the water splash into the sink and drain. Dover walked back into the room and tossed the empty bowl onto the cupboard. "Think you can sit up enough to eat something? Breakfast was a few hours ago, but maybe I can bug Monifa. She can't ignore me forever."

With the mention of food, Taylor realized there was a familiar gnawing in his gut. It had been difficult to recognize through the pain in his back and wrists. "Y-yeah, I think so," he said

Dover rubbed his nose with the back of his hand and walked towards the door. He put one hand on the door and jerked to a halt, spinning around. "Oh yeah, almost forgot," he mumbled, digging into his pocket. He pulled something out and tossed it. It arced across the room to thump against the mattress, and Taylor felt something warm settle against his side. He reached down to grab a small piece of metal: the pendant of his necklace, the string still dusted with dirt from under the house. Taylor stared at it, dumbfounded. What Dover must have done to retrieve it, or why, he couldn't guess. By the time he thought to look up to stutter a thank-you, Dover was already back at the door. Dover pushed the screen door open and paused. "You know, I... might've missed you, too. Maybe," he said over his shoulder.

Taylor blinked up at Dover's back in surprise. Dover turned his head away, and pushed past the screen door and out into the open air. Taylor heard his feet shuffling through the dirt and fade away.


	18. Chapter 18

Taylor spent the next two weeks lying on his stomach in the cabin, relying on the other children for help with everything from using the restroom to sitting up enough to eat. Being confined to that small room, unable to move, quickly became more unbearable than the pain in his back and wrists. Mostly he tried to sleep as much as possible, but often he would feel so restless that sleep was impossible.

He hated having to rely on the others, whose opinions about him remained mixed after the whipping. For the most part, the initial anger over Taylor's escape dissipated after the first day; perhaps they believed he had been justly punished (if not overly so). Some, like Jareth, were begrudgingly accepting of him; others, like Hamid and Monifa, were more sympathetic. Some, like Kurt and Kanya, seemed to take an interest in Taylor's story, particularly about the city. Everyone else turned to acting as if it had never happened, and in some way, Taylor was both grateful for and frustrated by this. Though Taylor could accept that _yes_ , he had missed them all, the pain and the boredom got the better of him more often than not, and most treated dealing with him and his short temper as a necessary chore.

The only one who never complained, and even went out of the way to see Taylor, was Dover. Taylor deeply resented it, because it was getting difficult to hate Dover. It was easier to hate Dover, to shove blame on him, than have to accept that their relationship had somehow changed. It was too painful and confusing to accept that the same person who had beat him and held him down was the same person who would gently clean the pus out of his wounds, and talk to him like it was the natural thing to do. Against his will and better judgment he found himself leaning towards Dover's attention, even looked forward to seeing Dover walk through the door. Slowly, Taylor was beginning to accept that, if he was going to stay here for a long time, he would have to change.

Spending too much time alone gave Taylor too much time to think about things that broke him down – about Melody, about Corinne and Cody – and the longer he spent in bed, the more he found himself dwelling on deeper issues he hadn't dared touch. What did it mean to be human, and be a slave? How could he retain his humanity, his sense of self, when he had absolutely no control over any aspect of his life? What freedom did he have left? Was there any point in ever considering what was best for him? What had Fingal meant about making peace with himself?

He mentally tossed and turned over this, until his thoughts grew darker and his emotions duller, and not even Dover's voice could reach him anymore. Dover was at a loss for what to do. He realized that he knew very little about Taylor and the sort of things Taylor enjoyed. He puzzled over it for a while, and eventually felt the best way to find out would be to simply ask.

"What do I like to do?" Taylor repeated, stunned. He was sitting for the first time in a week, with his back to the window, letting the heat of the sun sink into his skin. Sitting was painful, but the warmth felt nice, and he had been dozing a little when Dover came in.

"Yeah... you know, like... hobbies," Dover said, sitting down on the end of the bed.

Taylor stared at Dover for a minute, biting his lip. "I don't know... I can't think of anything. I haven't had time for that."

Dover leaned on his knees. "There has to be _something_ you liked to do. Before you came here."

"I didn't come here, I was _brought_ here," Taylor said, but Dover was used to Taylor's stalling tactics by now and only frowned in response. Taylor rolled his eyes and gazed over at the door thinking. "Well... uh... I used to read sometimes. Books that Tek— uh, my foster-father gave me."

Dover raised a brow. "You can read?"

Taylor crossed his arms. "Yeah, of course. Why, you can't?"

Dover looked away and muttered something.

Taylor grinned at this bit of information. "Well that explains a lot."

"Shut up, I never got a chance to go to school, okay?" Dover grumbled, blushing. "What else?"

"Uh..." Taylor stared down at his hands. "I liked to draw, sometimes."

Dover blinked in surprise. "What, really?" he said, smirking. "Like what?"

It was Taylor's turn to flush red at this. "Stuff. I mean, I wasn't amazing at it." He paused, remembering the sketchbook he had been trying to get when he was kidnapped, and mumbled, "Actually, it's sort of the reason I'm here."

Dover held his chin with his hands. "Drawing, huh? Who knew. You should draw me something."

"What? No," Taylor said, flustered.

"Aw come on," Dover said. "You've heard me sing before, it's not a big deal. I don't care if you suck at it."

"Yeah, but your singing is actually good," Taylor muttered, and immediately winced at the self-satisfied grin on Dover's face.

Dover laughed. "Tell you what, I'll see what I can do about getting some paper, but you gotta draw me something, 'kay?"

Taylor frowned, but his boredom recently had become almost painful, and he nodded.

* * *

Dover returned the next day with a small stack of books, and an assortment of old, yellowed papers in various sizes that still had writing on the front. They were old handwritten inventory lists and receipts; unable to read them, Dover had apparently thought them worthless. He said he found it all in boxes in the basement, and Taylor knew not to press the circumstances of how he had come across it. Unable to find anything to draw _with_ , Dover had settled on the only thing he could think of that made a mark – charcoal from the fire pit behind the dorm. It was messy, but Taylor accepted it anyway.

Taylor sat with the papers on his lap and a stick of charcoal in his hand, feeling paralyzed with fear. It didn't help that Dover was sitting in the chair staring at him as if fire might suddenly explode from his fingertips.

"Could you go away? You're freaking me out," Taylor mumbled.

Dover blinked. "Oh, sorry," he said, straightening up, but made no attempt to leave or even look away.

After several minutes of staring at the paper, Taylor shoved it aside. "Ugh, I can't do it!" he groaned, covering his face with his hand.

Dover leaned back in the chair. "Whatsa matter? Constipated?"

Taylor pulled on his face and glared at him. "It's been a while, okay?" He took a deep, shuddering breath, and let it out. "I don't remember how anymore," he muttered.

Dover let the chair fall back to the ground with a loud _clunk_. "Sure you do. You just gotta get started, and you'll remember. Here." He pulled the paper and the charcoal towards him and started to doodle. Taylor watched, bemused, as Dover sketched out a crude drawing and held it up.

Taylor couldn't help letting out a burst of laughter. The drawing did not appear to be anything more than a lopsided circle with two dots and a line in it, and some squiggly lines coming out of it. "What's _that_?"

Dover frowned at Taylor, then at the drawing. "It's you!" He pointed to the squiggly lines. "See, those are your arms." He pointed to the circle with the dots. "And this is your face." Taylor realized the two dots were meant to be his eyes, and the line a small frown.

Taylor took the paper and snorted with laughter. "That is really horrible," he chuckled. "Do I really look like that?"

Dover crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair once more. "Yeah well, I'd like to see you do better."

Taylor gave an exasperated huff, and picked up the charcoal pencil. His expression darkened as he stared at the page for a moment. He brought the pencil to the page, pressed down, and drew a line. He stared at the line for a moment, and his face hardened with concentration as he began to draw. Dover watched the drawing slowly emerge from the paper, messy and scratchy and smudged. Finally Taylor leaned back, gazing at the drawing. Dover turned the page towards him and froze.

As crude and disjointed as the drawing was, Dover instantly recognized Kaelin's face etched into the paper. He looked as Taylor remembered him most – cocky, arrogant and full of life. Dover realized he couldn't breathe, and pushed the paper away. "Y... you have a pretty good memory," Dover said, trying to smooth the strained edge out of his voice.

Taylor gave a slow shrug. "It's pretty bad," he muttered, and reached to rub out the drawing with his thumb. Dover pushed his hand way before he could touch the paper.

"No, don't," Dover said. "It's good. It's... thank you."

Taylor stared at Dover for a moment, and looked away. "It's just a stupid picture," he mumbled, but he carefully folded up the paper and handed it to Dover, who pocketed it.

Taylor reached for the stack of books on the end of the bed and pulled them towards him. He shifted through the titles; a couple he recognized, others were completely unfamiliar.

"I just picked ones that had cool pictures on the front," Dover said, shrugging.

Taylor picked up Kidnapped and flipped through the pages. "I wonder why he has these; do you think they were his?"

Dover shrugged again. "Know if they're any good?"

"Well, I heard this one as a kid..." He set the book aside and glanced at Dover. "Did your parents at least read you stories when you were a kid?"

Dover gazed down at the floor. "My dad said the Bible was the only book worth reading," he said.

Taylor stared at him for a moment, then at the pile of books. "Well... I could read you something..."

Dover shook his head. "It's fine, really... I'm not very good at sitting and listening, anyway."

Taylor frowned. _At least he's honest_ , he thought. "I can teach you how to read, if you want."

Dover rubbed his arms and stared at the books as if they might jump up and bite him. "I don't know..."

Feeling thoroughly sore from sitting up for so long, Taylor pushed the books aside and laid down on his stomach with his head in the pillow. "Come on, I've got nothing better to do. I'm bored as hell," he said, muffled against the pillow. After a moment, he glanced back at Dover, who was staring out the window. "Dover?"

"You'd... really do that?" Dover mumbled.

Taylor sat up on his elbows, ignoring the protest in his back. "Yeah, sure. I mean, it's not a big deal. Reading."

Dover gave a small smile and pushed himself out of the chair. "Right... okay, why not. But, uh..." He looked nervously out the window. "You can't tell anyone about it, okay? We're not really supposed to know how to read and stuff."

Taylor blinked at Dover in confusion. "Alright with me," he said.

"Okay... later, then," Dover said, and walked out the door, hands in his pockets. Taylor watched him leave, then glanced back at the books with a sigh. _Well, it's something to do, I guess_ , he thought. _It doesn't have anything to do with him_.

* * *

Taylor spent the odd hours of his recuperation/confinement in the cabin teaching Dover how to read, often after dark, when work was over and it was easier for Dover to get away. Though Dover was always exhausted by the time he came around at the end of the day, he took learning very seriously and did his best to pay attention. He was a slow learner, and after several frustrated spats, Taylor decided it would be best to tackle writing and spelling at a later date, and focus on reading.

Once Taylor had healed enough to stand and move around, he was blissfully evicted from the cabin, but pressed back into work in the fields with the others. Taylor thought this would be the end of his sessions with Dover. On the contrary, Dover bothered him at every opportunity to keep studying. Taylor found a loose board in the dorm to hide the books and paper beneath, and Taylor moved his sleeping mat near Dover's so they could work on it at night when everyone else had gone to sleep. Taylor was usually so tired and sore at the end of the day that he fell asleep listening to Dover mutter syllables to himself, brow furrowed in concentration as he stared at a word on a page. At breakfast and dinner, Taylor would write words in the dirt for Dover to read, so he could easily rub it out with his feet if Johann happened to pass by.

All told, the two were spending a lot more time together than Taylor would have liked, and it did not go without notice. The remaining members of Dover's gang became more and more distant, and the situation was only exacerbated by Dover's relative indifference towards it. For the first time, Dover began to find himself on the receiving end of his gang's scorn.

Dover looked up from his work one day to see Jareth towering over him, arms crossed, the sweat on his black skin glistening in the sunlight. "What is going on?" Jareth said in his deep, rumbling voice.

Dover crinkled his nose. "What do you mean?"

"With _him_ ," Jareth said, nodding his head in the direction of Taylor, who was working several yards away.

Dover turned away, clutching a rake. "Nothing." He peered over Jareth's shoulder at Ric and Kurt, who were muttering to one another and glancing in their direction. "Why? Did Ric put you up to this?"

Jareth's critical expression hardened, and for a moment he just frowned and said nothing. "I know there is something going on between the two of you," he said at last. "Something you have not told us."

It was the most Dover had heard him say in a long time, and he stopped to look back at Jareth. "What, I'm not allowed to be nice to the new guy for a change? Did you _see_ his back?"

"I was there," Jareth said. "He ran. He was punished. You owe him nothing."

Dover narrowed his eyes and looked away. "Of course not!"

"There is some reason he ran away. You know it, but you do not tell us."

Dover shrugged. "How should I know?"

"You talk to him. He tells you things."

Dover squared his shoulders. "Is there something wrong with that?"

Jareth looked at him for a long moment, and said, "No. But you used to speak to us. You used to trust us."

"What are you talking about? I still trust you guys," Dover grumbled.

"Then what happened? Why do you ignore us, and speak to him? I thought we were friends. I thought you hated him."

"We're still friends! And yeah, maybe I did hate him, but... but that was before..." Dover bit his lip.

Jareth stared at Dover until, unnerved, Dover looked away. "... He cannot replace Kaelin," Jareth said softly.

"I know that! Shit!" Dover threw the rake down. "I just want to be friends with him. You guys don't get it at all."

Jareth blinked and unfolded his arms. "No. I don't."

Dover sighed and leaned down to pick up the rake. "Then I guess we don't have anything else to say."

Jareth stood and watched for a moment as Dover went back to work, ignoring Jareth's presence. Slowly, he turned away and walked back towards Kurt and Ric.

* * *

"Did you have a fight or something?"

Dover looked up from staring at the dirt at Taylor's feet. "Hmm?"

Taylor nodded towards the front porch, where Jareth, Kurt and Ric were huddled together eating dinner.

Dover glanced at them and looked away. "No. Why?"

Taylor toed the dirt smooth and began to draw letters into the dust with his finger. "I don't know. They're kind of giving you the cold shoulder, don't you think?"

Dover shrugged. "Not _my_ problem." He glanced down at the letters and squinted. "Uh, l—ee—"

Taylor tapped at the letters with his feet. "It's an 'I', sound it out."

"L— aye – eye – " Dover paused, frowning, and looked up to Taylor. "I'm not lying, it's true. I have no idea what their deal is."

Taylor narrowed his eyes and brushed the word away. "It's because of me, right?"

Dover folded his arms and scowled. "Well, so what? _I_ don't have a problem with you. Why, do you care?"

"I stopped caring what you guys thought a long time ago," Taylor said, leaning on his knee. "I thought you were friends."

"We are!" Dover said, exasperated.

"Why not tell them the truth, then?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I mean, about Cori—"

Dover slapped his hand over Taylor's mouth before he could finish the name. "Are you fucking _insane_?" he hissed. " _Why_ would I tell them about that?"

Taylor pushed Dover's hand away, frowning. "Well, you said they're your friends..."

"Exactly... what do you think they're gonna say if I tell them? Do you really think they'll feel sorry for me?" Dover whispered. "They're going to think I'm just trying to get special treatment or something from her."

"You don't know that for sure," Taylor muttered.

Dover shook his head. "No way, it's bad enough you ever found about it. You've seen her. She'll take any opportunity to use them against me."

"Yeah, I remember that pretty well," Taylor grumbled.

Dover grimaced. "Well, unless you want it to be Big J pressing your face into the mattress next time, I'd just forget about them," he hissed back.

Taylor was so mortified by this image that he fell silent, drawing patterns in the dirt.


	19. Chapter 19

A month passed from Taylor's "homecoming", and if it wasn't for the persistent ache in his back, he could almost forget that anything had changed. Between the setting of the fields and keeping up with Dover's studies, Taylor was too drained to dwell on anything. Still, there was this overarching dread, a nagging absence that he could not place until he realized it had been over a month since he had last met Corinne in the basement.

On the rare occasion they happened to meet, she was amicable, but made no indication of her interest or any cue he could discern, no matter how subtle. More than anything, the motives behind this change of attitude frightened him. Had she really given up on him? Or was this show of indifference a sort-of punishment in itself, meant to agonize him with the sudden withdrawal of her affections and the almost ritualistic torture that came with it? Imagining what sort of punishment she might be devising for his betrayal was, indeed, a form of torture in itself, and he wondered if this feeling was the point. When he asked Dover about it, Dover would just shrug and reiterate that Corinne had not mentioned or asked anything about Taylor.

He did not want to be the one to give in, to play into her manipulative game. He wanted things to stay like this, as if nothing had happened, as if Corinne continued to care for Cody out of true maternal affection. When it came to the point he could not sleep without dreaming about her, waking in a cold sweat with the ghost of her face drifting across his eyes, he felt his resolve crumble.

One late afternoon early in the summer, Taylor saw her sitting in her rocking chair on the porch, and decided this was the moment to get answers. She held a sleeping Cody wrapped in her arms, his head lolling against her breast. The afternoon breeze tossed her curls and brushed the down of silvery blonde hair on Cody's head. Taylor jogged up the patio steps, and she gave him a warm smile as he approached.

"Taylor, good afternoon," she said softly, as if to avoid waking up Cody. Taylor mentally brushed this off; though everything about her voice and manner suggested sincerity, experience told him it wasn't to be trusted.

"Ma'am," he said simply, lowering his eyes. The show of giving a bow was too much for him.

She smiled wider and glanced down at the infant, brushing a lock of hair out of her face. "Did you come to see him? It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Taylor glanced down at Cody's sleeping face and felt his chest grow tight. "Y-yeah. He's getting pretty big," he said.

She rocked back and forth in the chair, and Cody murmured nonsensically in his sleep. "He's a good boy," she said, and Taylor winced. The tone and the choice of words were not accidental; immediately he felt his stomach twist and his face blush with an unbidden memory. Corinne smirked. "But so are you, aren't you, Taylor?"

Taylor felt as if the breath had been knocked out of him. He nodded slowly, feeling his control over the conversation slipping away – if he had ever had it in the first place.

Her expression melted into one of deep sympathy. "How's your back?"

Taylor swallowed and coughed, trying to return some feeling to his mouth. "It's... a little sore," he said.

She tisked and shook her head. "Maybe I should take a look at it."

Taylor blinked at her, and looked around. The other children had retreated to the kitchen by now for dinner; Johann was nowhere to be seen. "What, here? Now?"

She giggled. "Yes, now. What's wrong?"

Taylor rubbed his arm anxiously, but she had stopped rocking and was gazing at him expectantly. Hands shaking, he grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up over his head and off, turning his back to her.

He heard her give a small gasp of surprise. Her icy fingertips brushed the skin of his back, and he flinched in shock. "Oh, you poor boy. You should really let me treat it."

Feeling more vulnerable by the second, Taylor quickly shrugged the shirt back on and turned towards her. "N-no, it's fine, really," he said.

She fixed him with a look that made his blood freeze. "Please. You shouldn't be afraid to ask for help if you need it," she said pointedly. She glanced back down at Cody. "Isn't that right, Cody?"

Taylor bit his lip. "You aren't mad at me?"

She looked up and stared at him for a moment, and tilted her head. "There was no harm done. You're happy to be back, aren't you?"

Taylor couldn't help thinking that there had been a lot of harm done, but he nodded.

She smiled. "That's right. So you'll let me take a look at it later, won't you?" Taylor nodded again, and she leaned forward to pat him on the wrist, just above his scarring. "Good boy."

* * *

"You did _what?_ "

Taylor winced and looked away into the fire. Dover flopped back onto the dirt to stare up at the emerging stars in the night sky.

"I _told_ you not to talk to her, I _told_ you," Dover groaned, rubbing his face.

"Sorry," Taylor mumbled.

Dover let his arms drop to the dirt on either side of him. "Do you have a thing for pain or something? Is that it? Because I can kick you around for a while if that's it. I can kick you all damned day."

Taylor sighed and ran a hand through his hair, glancing down at the full plate sitting next to him. He was so sick with anxiety he couldn't eat. "Well, I can't do anything about it now."

Dover rocked himself up from the ground to sit and drape his arms around his knees. He stared at Taylor for a moment. "She can't push you too hard, could she?" he muttered. "You're better, but you're not exactly healed."

Taylor drooped his head into his hands. "I don't know," he groaned.

Dover kicked a bit of dirt into the fire, watching sparks flare up. "We need to get back at her somehow," he mumbled, and Taylor jumped with surprise.

"How?" he whispered. "I can't do anything without her threatening me."

Dover shrugged. "I don't know..." He clenched his fist and hit the palm of his opposite hand. "How about this... first one to make her scream gives the other dinner."

Taylor covered his face with his palm. "Dover..."

"What? She's so cold, it's like fucking an ice cube," he grumbled, kicking more dirt at the fire.

Taylor picked up the full plate and moved to get up, and Dover's hand shot out to stop him.

"Whatever she says, it's not true, okay?" Dover muttered. "You know she has a way with words... don't get too wrapped up in it."

Taylor slowly nodded, and Dover pulled his hand away, turning to stare into the dying fire. Taylor began to walk towards the kitchen, numb to the sensation of his feet, as if his body might disappear bit by bit.

* * *

Later that night, Taylor sat on the edge of the mattress in the basement, staring down at his shadow on the floor. Corinne sat just behind him with one leg on either side, massaging ointment into the scarring on his back. The ointment had a pleasant citrus scent, and numbed the pain of his wounds, so all he could feel was Corinne's fingertips working the knots and tension out of his muscles. Despite his anxiety over being back down here, the massage felt so nice that he thought he might fall asleep.

"Do you like it?" she purred.

Feeling too entranced to speak, Taylor just nodded.

"Good." Her hands softened, her touch more of a caress as she brushed the skin of his back. "You must have been so lonely and scared out there, in the city," she said. Taylor felt himself being drawn up from the trance of the massage like a fish on a hook. She leaned gently on his shoulders. "Did you miss me?"

Taylor glanced back at her. It was a simple question, but he wasn't sure how to answer. Sure, there had been one or two things like this he had missed. But there had been many things he definitely hadn't.

Seeing the hesitation on his face, she looked down and continued to caress his back. The sensation was so familiar that he felt his body reacting to it automatically, expecting more. His skin flushed red and he tried to focus on ignoring the feeling. "I was so happy when they found you," she said. "Who knows what could have happened to you out there. You wanted to come home, didn't you? You'll never wander off again, will you?"

He gazed down at his knees and said nothing. He knew his silence would bother her more than anything, and he was right; her hands froze.

"Taylor? What's wrong?" she cooed.

"Do you really expect me to believe you were happy?" he muttered.

She leaned closer to him. "Why wouldn't I be? I was worried sick about you."

Taylor rubbed the scarring on his wrist, the pain distracting him from the heat in his body. "Then why didn't you stop him?"

Corinne started to brush his sides with her fingertips. Even that light touch felt like electricity on his skin, and he fought the urge to squirm away from her. "But I did! You just don't remember."

Taylor highly doubted this, despite the honeyed sincerity to her voice. "But you knew what he was going to do to me, right?"

"I had no idea, honestly. I was just as hurt over it as you were." She pulled aside the hair on the nape of his neck and pressed her lips to his skin. "You sure have a lot of questions tonight," she chuckled. Her breath made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. "Relax."

His anger over her lies blended together with his irritation over her flirtatious advances. She had done nothing to outright ask for or initiate sex, but she knew how to press all the right buttons to make his mind jump there. Taylor knew his resistance and his questions aggravated her more than she showed, but his body ached for stimulation, and he could feel his resolve crumbling. Her hands strayed to the bulge in his pants, and he knew that he had lost. He could almost feel her smile.

"You did miss me, didn't you?" she said. Taylor shook his head and leaned away from her. She hugged his waist back towards her. Her fingertips teased the skin above the waistline of his pants. "If you want me to touch you there, then just ask."

"No, I—I'm fine," Taylor said, blushing.

"Hmm? Are you sure?" She hugged his chest. "Well if you don't want me to, just say so. After all, you were so talkative just a minute ago. It's all right if you want to go."

Taylor bit his lip. He wanted to tell her no, to get up and walk away. Though he would feel some satisfaction at evading her, part of him knew that the simple act of refusing her would, paradoxically, fit into her command. He would only be leaving with her permission. If he gave in and asked her to continue, did it mean he wanted it? He knew he didn't, despite the reaction of his body; but if he didn't then shouldn't he just leave? His head started to pound. Was there any way out? He couldn't see one.

Corinne drew small circles on his chest. "If you don't say anything, I'm going to keep going," she said.

Taylor could feel his options being eliminated, if there were any real options to begin with. His thoughts were so tangled he could no longer think anymore. Out of desperation, he seized on his last option, a last rebellious bid at free choice. He turned around and kissed her on the lips.

At first she was too stunned to react. Slowly, her lips parted and she kissed him back. Taylor felt excitement rush through his body so fast it made him dizzy, but he kept kissing her, reveling in the momentary sensation of victory. Though he knew he had been pushed to this, had lost the battle with her, he felt an unknown surge of freedom at being the one to press his lips against hers. She gasped for air and he dared to go further, running his hands over her nightgown, kissing the side of her neck.

She giggled, but he could tell there was a bit of breathless anxiety in her voice. "Taylor, what is the matter with you? Stop that," she whispered.

He ignored her, undoing the laces on the back of her nightgown to pull down her corset and expose her breasts. He teased her nipples with his lips and she squirmed, pushing his face away. Her expression hardened.

"I mean it, stop," she said, holding him back at arm's length. He refused to look at her. Desperation had pushed past the confusion and panic inside him, until there was nothing left of himself anymore except the desire to feel that fleeting moment of freedom again. Even if experience was screaming at him to stop, to submit to her words, he could not stop. His hands grazed her thighs, and she slapped him away. He started to crawl on top of her and she abruptly stood up, pulling her nightgown back up and holding it with one hand.

"Apparently my husband hasn't gotten through to you," she said, gazing down at him with disgust. At the sight of her lip curling, Taylor found himself helplessly, silently chuckling. Her expression smoldered, and she turned and walked out of sight. His chuckles grew into full-on laughter, and he found he couldn't stop, couldn't do anything but sit and laugh. When she came back around the corner holding the blood-crusted shackles, he fell sideways against the mattress and could no longer breathe. He held his stomach, tears streaming down his face, while Corinne kneeled next to him and wrenched his arms behind his back, shackling them together.

"I didn't want things to have to be this way," she said, sitting next to him. He hiccupped, trying to rub the tears from his face against the sheet. "But I can't have you acting like this. It's not right for a boy like you." She turned him over so he was lying on top of his arms with her leaning over him. He gazed up past her curls towards the shadow of her face.

She shook her head. "Did I do something to hurt you, Taylor? I've made you happy, haven't I?" She cupped the side of his face with her hand, brushing the hair out of his face. "Why can't we just be happy together? Why would you make me hurt you?"

Taylor turned away from her hand, staring at the locks of his hair on the mattress.

She stared down at him for a moment. "I see," she said softly. "You don't care if you get hurt anymore, do you, hmm?"

Taylor winced. Tears prickled in his eyes again.

"What about the baby? Do you want him to get hurt?"

Taylor shook his head, clenching his eyes shut.

"Or your friend? Dover? I'm sure he would care if I hurt you." She leaned down on his chest, and he felt his wrists screaming in protest against the bite of the shackles. "Oh, just imagining the look on his face makes me ache."

The hysteria was leaving him behind with nothing but the pain in his back and wrists, and a familiar gripping fear. "P-please, don't," he sputtered.

"Better yet, I think he should be the one to teach you manners. Wouldn't that just be awful for him?"

Tears flowed down his cheeks; he could feel it cold against his ears, soaking into his hair. " _No, please, I... I'm sorry_ ," he whimpered.

She pursed her lips and leaned back. "No. I don't think I believe you."

"I'm sorry, I... I'll do anything you want," he sobbed. "Just don't hurt them. I'm sorry..."

She stared at him for a moment. "Alright," she said. "But I'm not taking you out of these until I'm sure you're sorry." He nodded, sniffing, and she sat back with a sigh. Her hand trailed along his chest to his waist. "Now... where were we? Oh, right." Her hand settled on the crotch of his pants. She turned her gaze back to his face. "Do you want me to touch you, Taylor?"

He stared back into her eyes. The fire of victory was long gone. The panic was gone. There was nothing. "Yes," he said.

* * *

"What happened?"

Taylor looked down, wiping the sweat out of his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket. Dover was crouched next to him, pretending to inspect the plants at Taylor's feet for weeds. "Huh?"

"You're wearing that jacket again," Dover said.

"I'm cold," Taylor said.

Dover shot him a look over his shoulder. Though it was still early in the summer, the heat that day was stifling, especially under a jacket. "What'd she do?" he said in a low voice, so only Taylor could hear. When he didn't answer, Dover stood and pulled the sleeve of Taylor's jacket up. He hissed at the fresh welts on Taylor's skin and checked the opposite wrist to confirm the damage. "She _shackled_ you?" he whispered. Taylor paled and looked away. Dover frowned. "What did _you_ do?"

"Something she didn't like," Taylor muttered. He briefly explained what had happened in the basement, and Dover's eyes widened.

"Shit! _Really?_ Didn't know you had it in you," he chuckled.

Taylor glared at him. He realized Dover was still holding onto the sleeves of his jacket and wrenched his hands away. "It was stupid, and I'm not doing it again."

Dover folded his arms. He glanced over his shoulder. "Hey, I told you, I think a little roughing up would be good for her," he muttered. "Just sad it wasn't me to do it."

"Don't even think about it," he snapped, turning to step over the plants to the next row. "Things are bad enough the way they are now without either of us fucking it up even more."

"Touchy," Dover grumbled, following Taylor into the next row.

Taylor pulled the tattered ends of his sleeves down over his thumbs. "I'm serious, if anyone sees this, I'm dead. _We're_ dead," Taylor whispered over his shoulder as he walked down the row. "Master's stupid, but not _that_ stupid."

Dover held up his hands. "Relax, no one's going to find out," he said. "Just put bandages on it... you don't need the jacket."

Taylor stopped abruptly, and Dover had to step to the side to avoid running into Taylor's back. He was staring down absently at the dirt, his long bangs shadowing his face from the intense noon sun. Dover leaned down to try to see his face. "I felt it. For just a second. But it was there," Taylor mumbled.

"Huh? What?" Dover said.

Taylor tilted his head to glance at Dover out of the corner of his eye. "I don't know. Freedom?"

Dover frowned. "Sure the heat's not getting to you?"

Taylor looked away, smirking. "Yeah... it's dumb, I know. But I definitely felt it." He shook his head and crouched down to pull a weed out of the soil. "Oh well, better to just forget about it, right?" he said, a little louder. He tossed the weed aside and tried to brush the sweat off the back of his neck with his already soiled sleeve. "Not like I'm going to feel that again."

"I guess," Dover muttered. He tugged on the back of Taylor's jacket. "Come on, take that off already. I'll go get the bandages." Before Taylor could protest, Dover was making his way back across the fields. He decided to take the jacket off, not because Dover had suggested it, but out of fear he might soon go the same way as Alanis.

Not for the first time, Taylor found himself wondering if he had made the right choice to come back here. Now that he had tasted freedom, it was difficult to go back. Was there a compromise somewhere that he couldn't see? _What am I holding onto?_ he wondered, sifting the dry soil through his fingers. The words Fingal spoke to him did not hold much more meaning now than they ever did. The heat was not helping his irritation. _What did Fingal know, anyway? It's not like he was ever a slave,_ he thought. _Maybe all that stuff about making peace was just a bunch of shit to get me out of his hair_. He looked over his shoulder back at the cluster of buildings in the distance, then down at the red welts on his wrist. _How am I supposed to 'come to terms' with any of this? How can it be okay?_ He massaged the back of his neck with a sigh. _I never should have ran. Why can't I learn? Why_ can't _it be okay the way things are? Before Melody died, I thought I... could make it here. Maybe even be happy here. Things weren't so much different. So what changed?_ He tilted his head up to look at the dusty sky. _What is missing?_


	20. Chapter 20

The summer months dragged by, and Taylor was no closer to an answer. Things settled into routine: work all day, teach Dover after dinner, occasionally spend a night in the basement. After his incident with Corinne, he noticed that she had become a bit more aloof and cold towards him. The slightest show of aggression or resistance in him would be met with disproportionately severe treatment. Being around her made him feel as if he were being slowly suffocated. Though he relished the idea that Corinne was somehow wary of him and wanted to spend less time around him, he also knew that her losing interest was dangerous – not for him, but for Cody. He did his best to not only shut off any part of himself around her, but to try and pick up on the things she found appealing and play it up. He was disgusted with himself for doing it, for even giving the pretense that he somehow enjoyed it. Somehow though, it was easier to play the role she envisioned than to try to cling to the fragile sense of self he had left.

He might have lost himself completely if it weren't for the two he fought to protect. Dover's reading comprehension continued to improve bit by bit, and he could even write short, simple sentences. Cody continued to grow, and Taylor felt relief, even happiness every time he saw Cody smile. Even when things felt unbearable, he found some solace in the idea that his pain was going towards something. It was still far from okay, but tolerable. He began to understand what he was holding onto, the sense of purpose that dragged him up out of the sinkhole of despair. The idea that he was being made to suffer for no reason – that his tolerance really had no meaning – was more than he could face.

* * *

By now Taylor had learned that relying too much on consistency in life was dangerous. Whether he liked it not, things began to unravel. One morning in the middle of summer, he woke up to the news that Nekane was dead.

Taylor watched Jareth carry her body out of the house and out towards the gravesites beyond the fields. Wrapped in a sheet, she looked somehow smaller in his hands than Taylor remembered her alive. Kurt and Ric followed silently after him, shovels trailing from their hands. Ric paused to glance at Dover, who stood with his back to the dorm wall in a stunned trance. Dover's gaze drifted up to Ric's and he shook his head; Ric turned and followed after Kurt without a word.

"How'd she die?" Taylor asked. There was an unreality about the situation that left him feeling numbly detached. He had seen this scene played out too many times. It was like watching a memory replay on a screen in black-and-white. The idea that the body in Jareth's hands was once a person remained far from his mind.

Dover turned to glance at Taylor. His face was pale and his expression drawn. "She killed herself," he said softly, and in that instant Taylor knew why Dover would not want to be anywhere near the body. Losing another the way he had lost Kaelin was nothing short of base treachery. Dover clammed up as if the words themselves had killed her, and he turned to stare back across the fields towards the sunrise.

Having spent little to no time inside the house, Taylor knew very little about Nekane. He knew she had been Melody's roommate, and that Melody had been distressed to the point of anguish of being unable to protect her. He also knew from the others that she was the oldest of all of them, and had been around almost as long as Dover. What went on in the house was unspoken, but Taylor quietly felt that Nekane must have suffered many years in silence to end it at this point. From the few encounters he had with her, he knew that the marks on her body told the story she couldn't speak. What had finally driven her over the edge? How could someone who have suffered so much choose to suddenly end it like that? He didn't want to know, but morbid curiosity drew him away from the others, towards the kitchen.

As it was on every morning, the kitchen door was open. Taylor vaulted the steps and paused in the doorway, looking around.

The kitchen was a mess. Pots and pans, utensils and dirty plates, bits of food and empty jars littered every surface. A pot of broth was boiling over on the stove, sloshing onto the oven and send up plumes of smoke. Taylor raced over to the stove and quickly turned off the heat, slamming the lid of the pot down.

"What are you doing?" a voice snapped behind him.

Taylor whirled around to see Monifa, hands on her hips. She was practically covered in food stains, and her normally meticulous, pulled-back hair was just a frizzled mess around her shoulders. Her brown eyes had a wild, desperate look. He hadn't expected this amount of disorder, and he was taken aback by it. He forgot why he came. "I—I was just trying to—"

"I don't care! I'm handling everything just fine, so get out! Out!" she wailed, shoving him towards the back door. Despite her hysteria, she had very little strength, and Taylor dug in his heels. She continued to babble at him. "You don't understand, I haven't made breakfast yet! And I've got lunch to think about, and dinner! And laundry! And— and—" Her strength left her completely and she stopped, clinging to the back of his shirt.

He glanced over his shoulder at her. "Monifa?"

She started to shake, staring down at the floor. "How could she leave me here?" she whimpered. "How could she leave me alone?"

Taylor felt like he had been encased in ice. The words rang familiar in his head. They were the same ones that tormented him daily, after Melody breathed her last in his arms. "I... I don't know," Taylor muttered.

Monifa let go of his shirt and stumbled towards the counter. Abruptly, she began to cry, her body wracking with sobs. Stunned, Taylor watched in awkward detachment as she sunk to her knees with her back to the corner of the cabinets. She clutched the top of her head and wailed into her knees, a piercing sound that rent his heart and brought tears to his eyes. Monifa had always been the pinnacle of strength to the other children, the 'mother' that everyone looked to. It was easy to forget that she was still a child like the rest of them. At a loss of how to comfort her, he walked closer and crouched down in front of her. He wanted to hold her, to tell her it was alright, but he knew his gestures seemed empty in the face of her pain. Though such an open expression of grief frightened him, shook him to the core of his being, he felt he could no longer call himself human if he got up and walked away now. So he waited for Monifa to cry herself out, which she did after several long, excruciating minutes.

Monifa tried in vain to scrub the tears from her face with the dirty apron. She gulped air, trying to breathe. "I knew she was worried," she said after a long moment, when her breathing had finally started to even. "About being pregnant." Taylor stared at her in shock, digesting this. Monifa took a deep, shaky breath. "I knew, but I... I thought she was just being paranoid. I... I was so busy, I... I didn't want to see it." She sniffed and rubbed her bloodshot eyes. "You know what she said to me?"

Taylor shook his head.

"She said she wasn't going to let him touch her or the baby," she said, and fresh tears squeezed out of her eyes and ran down her cheeks. "I... said she was being ridiculous." She gave a self-deprecating laugh, wiping the tears with the back of her hand. "I said that to her, even though I knew what was happening to her. Did you know that since Melody died, Master hasn't touched me even once?" Taylor just stared, unable to respond, and she looked away. "I knew, but I... I was so mean to her..." She sobbed, burying her face in her hands. "You... you must think I'm horrible," she groaned.

Taylor swallowed, clearing his throat. "N-no, I don't," he said.

"I was so scared," Monifa whimpered. "So scared about what might happen. I didn't mean to..."

The words that Taylor found himself running from, that Dover spoke to him as he sat at Melody's grave, floated up from the back of his mind and passed through his lips before he could stop them. "It's not your fault," he said.

She lifted her head to stare at him.

"She chose to... to kill herself," he said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. "It's... not your fault."

Monifa sniffed, pawing at her face. "I know, I... I know... I don't want to be mad at her... but. What about me? What's going to happen to me now? How am I supposed to do everything by myself?"

Taylor glanced at the floor. These weren't easy questions, and he wasn't sure there was any easy solution. "Can't... can't the mistress help?" he muttered.

Monifa's eyes went wide. "Her... help?" She bit her lip. "Oh I don't know... she's never done anything before." She glanced over Taylor's shoulder, as if expecting to see Corinne standing there. She lowered her voice even further. "She acts nice, but I've always felt she hated us girls," she said.

Taylor frowned. "Why would she hate you?"

Monifa shook her head. "I don't know... well, she must know about Master, don't you think?" she whispered. "I mean, how couldn't she? Maybe she blames us,"

Taylor had never given this much thought, but it made sense. More than ever he felt what a loathsome thing Cody must be to Corinne, and how important it was for Cody to be protected.

Monifa watched the thoughts play across Taylor's face. She leaned over her knees towards Taylor. "I know," she said, and Taylor jerked back in surprise. "About you and the mistress."

Taylor stared at her, feeling the color drain out of his face. "H... how?" he choked out.

Monifa blushed. "I... I went down to the basement one night to get something ready for breakfast," she mumbled. "And I... heard."

Taylor thought he might die then and there from embarrassment. "Please, you... you can't tell anyone," he whispered.

"Why would I?" Monifa said, crossing her arms over her knees. "But... I'm worried. Dover, I understand... but you? Why would you do it?"

Taylor bit his lip. "You don't understand, she... threatens me," he said. Monifa stared at him quizzically. He toyed with the frayed edges of his pants. "She has Cody."

"Oh." Monifa looked away. "So you... don't like her?"

Taylor grimaced and shook his head. He was mortified that his secret had been exposed, but it was somehow even more painful for Monifa to find out that he was being used. That he let himself be used. He braced himself for Monifa's derision or pity, but neither came. Instead she just gazed across the stained tile floor.

"Do you think," Monifa said at last. "That... if Nekane had someone to protect her... she would have had her baby?" Monifa turned her head to glance at him. "Do you think she'd still be alive?"

Taylor stared at her. "I... don't know," he said.

She gazed at him for a moment and sighed. She pushed herself shakily to her feet and Taylor followed. "Well, this mess won't clean itself up," she said, in a tone Taylor was more familiar with from her. She turned and slowly began to gather up the scattered dishes. "Now get out of my kitchen before I thrash you," she tossed over her shoulder.

Taylor tucked his hands into his pockets and turned towards the door. He was about to step outside when he heard Monifa call his name. "Huh?" he said, pausing to look back at her.

She gave a weak smile. " _Thanks_ ," she mouthed silently.

Taylor stared at her for a moment and turned away, leaping down the steps and making his way back towards the dorms.

* * *

The fallout of Nekane's self-destruction soaked deep inside everyone and everything on the farm, becoming a cancer that slowly turned Taylor's already unstable life upside-down. As if her blood had tainted the very earth they worked, the crops began to fail. Try as Johann might to find a cure, by autumn, the usual harvest had dwindled to only a quarter of its usual size. The mysterious disease devastated not only the odd plant that Taylor despised, but everyone on the farm who staked their lives on it. The blow fell hardest on Johann, who rarely spent a day after the harvest sober, flying into inconsolable rages that would tear through the farm like a cyclone, striking out at random. All it took was to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and Ric became another body in the ground. The empty days after the harvest were swollen with grief and fear. When the plants were packed and shipped at the end of autumn, Hamid and Kanya were sold along with it. There were no tearful good-byes; just a cold numbness as winter set in.

Their numbers significantly reduced, the old H dorm felt unbearably empty. In an effort to keep busy over the long, frozen winter, they converted the storage shed to a small dorm. Though cramped in comparison to the old dorm, the two bunk beds with their straw mattresses were an improvement to sleeping on the floor, and the smaller space was easier to keep warm.

Dover tried his best to keep a positive attitude. It was not the first time he had witnessed a crop failure, or friends being sold – even if things were more bleak than he had ever seen. Not everyone dealt well with the change, and the gloom of winter did nothing to assuage the tension. Kurt's already unstable mentality finally shattered, and he disappeared one night after dinner. It took less than a day for his body to turn up on the outskirts of the city. With this development, Taylor noticed Dover becoming increasingly withdrawn. He responded with single syllables when spoken to, and only gazed blankly at Taylor when he suggested practicing his reading.

"Who gives a shit about that?!" Dover spat the fifth time Taylor tried to engage Dover with this. He tore the book out of Taylor's hands and threw it at the dirt as hard as he could, stomping on the spine for good measure. "What the hell good are books, anyway? They don't help shit!" Taylor watched Dover take out his rage and frustration on the poor book, nonplussed. Finally Dover collapsed into a crouch, clutching the back of his neck. Taylor scooped the ragged book out of the dirt, shaking dirt out of the pages. "What do I need to read for? What good does that do?" Dover mumbled into his knees. "A bunch of stupid stories aren't going to help anyone. Grow up already." Taylor couldn't tell who Dover was talking to anymore.

* * *

As winter passed, Johann was forced to move on from the string of tragedies and re-evaluate the strategy for the next harvest. Finding the source of the disease and preventing it from striking again; downsizing the size of the harvest but increasing the yield; it all cost money that did not exist. Early in the year, Jareth was sold to cover the expenses. To Johann, it was just business. To Taylor and Dover, it was another blow that left them suddenly alone, and with the burden of carrying on the labor that was handled only a year ago by almost a dozen.

After Jareth was sold, Dover picked up a new habit, much to Taylor's annoyance. One afternoon on his way to the outhouse, he spotted Dover sitting behind the curing barn, smoke curling from a piece of paper in his mouth. Taylor turned on the spot and walked over to Dover. Up close, the smell of whatever was burning inside the paper made Taylor cough and his eyes water. Taylor crouched next to Dover to get a better look.

"What are you doing?" Taylor said, covering his mouth and nose with his hand.

Dover stared at the door to the overseer's cabin, the embers of the paper flaking off and disappearing into the dirt between his knees. He glanced up at Taylor beneath his brows and plucked the paper from his mouth. "What does it look like?" he muttered, coughing a little. "I'm smoking." He returned the paper to his mouth and took a drag, and Taylor watched in repulsed fascination as smoke streamed from Dover's nose as he exhaled.

"Smoking _what_?" Taylor said. He glanced at an open crate next to Dover. It was one of many crates of the diseased plants that they had been slowly destroying. It was only too easy to make the connection. "Are you _crazy_?" Taylor hissed, making a swipe for the cigarette.

Dover leaned away, holding the cigarette at arm's length away to safety. "Relax, it's fine!" he said. "It's not like I'm going to grow a second arm or something. It just takes the edge off." He took another drag on the cigarette, which was so short by now he could barely hold it.

Taylor frowned. "It's not funny, that stuff could kill you."

Dover rolled his eyes. "Like I care." At the glare Taylor shot him for this, he squashed the cigarette into the dirt. "There, I'm putting it out. Happy?"

"No," Taylor said, scowling.

Dover pushed himself to his feet, brushing dust off of his pants. "Well you never are, so that means shit to me."

Taylor sighed and stood up, following Dover as he headed towards the shed. "Just don't do it again."

"Yeah, sure, cross my heart," Dover said without even looking over his shoulder. Dover stormed into the shed, slamming the screen door behind him. Taylor stood outside, watching Dover jump onto the bottom bunk and pull a sheet over his head through the single window.


	21. Chapter 21

Taylor was sick of being cold and sick of being wet. More than that, he was sick of spending all his time locked up with a very grief-stricken and sullen Dover who spent all _his_ time smoking and singing to no one. With the ground still too frozen to break and the driving rain, the two were spending much more time together than Taylor would have liked, and it was starting to wear on him. It was difficult to find privacy; now that everyone else was gone, his absence was much more noticeable, and Dover would become anxious and go looking if Taylor was anywhere too long.

The frigid weather had iced over both Johann's and Corinne's moods, and Taylor saw very little of them aside from occasionally at meal times. Cody had discovered the joys of crawling, and Corinne's attentions were split between a fussy and entirely mobile baby, and Johann's own infantile tantrums. Corinne moved back into the master bedroom, and Cody and his crib were moved into Monifa's room. This meant that it was nearly impossible for Corinne to sneak out at night. A blessing and a curse in disguise, this also meant that Taylor and Dover suddenly had their nights entirely to themselves.

Taylor soon recognized that his body had a mind of its own, and it was much more disgruntled about being cut off from Corinne than he would ever dare to admit. With the hostile weather and Dover's constant company, it was impossible to find a moment alone to satisfy himself. The shame of missing Corinne clashed horribly with the mounting anxiety of being isolated and restrained.

So it was that Taylor found himself once again gazing out into the blackness of the window next to his bunk, listening to the drumming of the rain on the tin roof, and the strains of Dover singing to the ceiling.

> "Corinne, Corinna, where you been so long
> 
> Corinne, Corinna, where you been so long
> 
> I ain't had no lovin' since you been gone"

This song was especially irritating to Taylor, and he tried to ignore Dover launching into the second verse by concentrating on the chill radiating from the windowpane, stinging the sweat on his face. Despite the cold he was drenched in sweat, and he could not stop shivering. He pulled the thin blankets tighter around him and prayed to God, to whoever could possibly be listening, that Dover would fall asleep soon.

>  "Corinne, Corinna, what's the matter now?
> 
> Corinne, Corinna, what's the matter now?
> 
> You wouldn't write no letter, you didn't love me no how"

Taylor groaned and pulled the blankets over his head. "Ugh, would you stop already? Go to sleep," he said over his shoulder.

Dover pulled a cigarette out of his mouth and tilted his head. "Huh?"

"I _said_ ," Taylor said, raising his voice to be heard over the rain. "Go to _sleep_!"

Dover took a drag on the cigarette. "Shut the fuck up, there's only one verse left. _You_ go to sleep."

Taylor rolled onto his back to glare at Dover. "I _can't_ with all that noise. What is that song, anyway?"

Dover grinned. "What, you don't like it? 'S for my lady."

"Well it's the stupidest fucking thing I've ever heard."

Dover leaned over to blot out the cigarette on the dirt floor. "That's 'cause you can't appreciate classical music."

"It's not _classical_ , it's shit. Did you make that up?"

Dover folded his arms behind his head, leaning against the wall. "I'm smart but I'm not that brilliant. Besides, when did you get such a filthy mouth?"

Taylor brushed the bangs out of his eyes and turned back onto his side. Dover began to hum the last verse. "Do you really think all that stuff?" Taylor said.

Dover paused. "All what stuff?"

"That stuff in the song."

"It's just a song."

Taylor watched a tendril of cold air detach from the foggy window and shuddered. "But... you miss her, don't you?"

The tapping of rain on the roof slowed. Through the pouring of water outside, Taylor heard Dover's breath give a thoughtful hiss. "Why, do you?" Dover shot back after a moment.

Taylor squirmed. He was so cold he could barely feel his fingertips rubbing his arms. "I... I don't really miss _her_ ," Taylor said through chattering teeth.

"Huh?" Dover stared at Taylor's back for a minute. "... _oh_."

An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Despite feeling frozen to the point of numbness, Taylor felt his cheeks burn.

Dover unfolded his arms and leaned forward on his bunk. "You need me to uh, go to the bathroom or something?" he muttered.

Mortified, Taylor curled up into a ball. "No, just forget it!" he said into his knees.

"You sure? I don't mind if you really need to." Taylor shook his head, pulling the covers back over his head. Dover watched Taylor shiver for a while. "You know, I... miss it too," he said.

"Ugh, Dover..." Taylor groaned, pulling the blankets tighter over his face.

"What? You asked. Nothing wrong with that."

"I really, _really_ don't want to discuss this."

"I'm just saying, you know, if you need some help—"

" _Dover_ _—_ "

"—that I wouldn't mind, uh, doing it—"

" _Please_ stop right there—"

"— with you."

"Am I hearing this right now?" Taylor said loudly. "Is my brain frozen? Am I dead?"

"Just a suggestion," Dover said, frowning.

"I think I'd rather freeze, thanks," Taylor muttered.

Dover sighed. The rain beat on the tin with renewed vigor. For a while, Taylor could hear nothing but the rain. After several minutes, Taylor peered over his shoulder. Dover was lying with his back to him. He could tell Dover wasn't asleep by the occasional shift of his legs. Taylor turned back over and tried to will himself to sleep, but the cold and Dover's words were sinking into his skin, making sleep impossible. He tossed and turned, shivering.

Now that the suggestion was in his head, he couldn't shake it out no matter how hard he tried. He knew the idea was absurd. The thought of taking out his frustrations on Dover, of all people, was enough to make him sick. But the frustration was becoming much more painful than the cold, and it was beating his pride to a pulp. As if from a mile away, he felt his numb body twist off of the bunk and pad across the freezing dirt to Dover's bunk, trailing blankets.

Dover turned his head groggily at Taylor's approach. "What?" he said.

Taylor rubbed his arms and gazed down at his feet. Now that he was over here, it felt too far to go back, but he also wasn't sure how to go forward. "C-cold," he stammered.

Dover turned onto his back, staring at Taylor. "Bunk's not really big enough for the two of us," he said. At the anxious look on Taylor's face, Dover sighed and pushed himself as close to the wall as possible. " _Fine_ , get in. But face that way," he said, pointing to the window. He turned onto his side, facing the wall.

Taylor climbed onto the bunk, doing his best to squeeze his thin frame onto the edge. Settling onto the mattress, he could feel a faint wave of heat radiating from Dover's back. Try as he might, he couldn't help touching Dover's back with his as he struggled to wrestle the blankets into a comfortable position.

Dover jumped as if he had just been shocked. "Jesus! You're fucking freezing!" Dover yelped. He rolled over to put his hands between them.

Taylor quickly tucked the blankets around him. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Frowning, Dover began to rub Taylor's back through the blankets. "You know you wouldn't be so cold if you weren't so damn skinny," he said.

Taylor could feel the warmth spreading across his back. He stopped shivering and his eyes fluttered. "'S not my fault."

"Yeah, right. Hard to think of what you'd look like fat." Dover moved from Taylor's back to his arms. "Pretty gross I bet."

Taylor wasn't listening. He hummed an assent, feeling warmth course beneath his cold skin into his fingertips. He breathed in the heavy musk of tobacco permeating the fabric of the mattress beneath him.

Dover paused. "You okay? Still cold?"

Taylor nodded and turned to face Dover. In the darkness, he could just barely make out Dover's face studying him, a distinct look of confusion etched into his features. "Do... do you remember what I told you, last summer?" he said quietly.

Dover propped himself up on his elbow. "'Bout what?"

Taylor pulled the blankets up to his nose. "About what I felt that one time, with Corinne."

"Yeah, I remember. I still think that was a great move, by the way."

Taylor rolled his eyes. "That's not the point..."

"Why, what brings that up?" Dover gave Taylor a hard look. "You're not thinking of trying that again, are you?"

Taylor bit his lip. "No, I..."

"Because it's really not a good idea," Dover interrupted. "She could really hurt you."

"I know that, but I—"

"And I don't want to see you get hurt like that again over something so totally stu—"

Dover's words died in his throat as Taylor latched onto his chest, burying his head into Dover's shoulder. Stunned, Dover froze, feeling Taylor shiver through the blankets.

"I can't stand it anymore," Taylor whimpered. "I can't stop thinking about it. I want to feel it again so bad I can't breathe. I can't sleep."

Dover tentatively placed a hand on Taylor's shoulder. "Wow, didn't know you were that horny," Dover chuckled.

Taylor sniffed and thumped his fist against Dover's chest. " _No_ , that's not it..."

"Are you crying? God, you're not crying, are you?"

Taylor sobbed and scrubbed at his face with his hands. "Come on, it's not f-funny," he groaned.

"Well I don't understand what you want. You're kind of weirding me out." He leaned back to watch Taylor wipe the tears from his face. "Just stop crying a sec', will ya? Deep breaths."

Taylor took a deep, shuddering breath and let it out.

"Okay, now back up. What are you saying? You want to do it with me?"

Taylor froze, keeping his eyes somewhere around Dover's chin.

"Why? I know I brought it up, but I mean..." Dover dropped his gaze and his voice. "I... hurt you. Did you forget about that?"

Taylor shook his head.

"So why?"

Taylor bit his lip and ruffled the blankets around Dover's chest. He shook his head again.

"What, ten minutes ago you were bitching at me for singing, and now all of a sudden you've got nothing?" Dover paused, staring at Taylor's downturned gaze, and sighed. He leaned down closer to peer into Taylor's face. "Look, if I do this for you... if _we_ do this... will you tell me why after?" 

Taylor's gaze flickered to Dover's face and away. Slowly, he nodded. He began to shake a little harder.

Dover pulled Taylor closer and rubbed his arms. "Okay, okay, relax already. You're making _my_ stomach do knots when you shake like that." Taylor took several deep breaths and held onto Dover's shirt. "Geez. So you can do it just fine when you're not in control, huh, but when you are, you freak out? Kind of stupid, isn't it?" he said, smiling.

Taylor gave a chuckle that turned into a choked cough.       

"Well, what do you want me to do?" Dover asked. "I am guessing what we did in the basement is a bit much."

Taylor nodded.

"So, what? Do you need me to kiss you and all that?"

Taylor shrugged.

"It's really not that difficult," Dover said. "Say something, anything."

"I... I don't know," Taylor whispered.

Dover brushed his bangs back behind his ear. "Well that's something, I guess. Tell you what. I'll kiss you, but you have to decide what you want from there, okay?"

Taylor nodded and closed his eyes. A second later, he felt Dover's lips peck the end of his nose. His eyes fluttered open in surprise; Dover let out a snort of laughter.

"T-that doesn't count!" Taylor said, frowning. "Come on, I'm serious."

"Sorry, I just couldn't do it when you were making that face," Dover snickered. At the glare on Taylor's face, he held his hands up defensively. "What, you think you can do better than that?"

"Yeah, I could!" Once the words had left Taylor's mouth, though, he felt a twinge of uncertainty.

Dover grinned. "Didn't know you were suddenly the expert. Well, give it a shot."

Taylor hesitated, staring back at Dover's face. He would much rather be punching it than kissing it at this moment, but it was too late to turn back now. Mustering up his courage and shutting out his better judgment, he leaned forward and kissed Dover square on the lips.

The feel of Dover's lips was painfully familiar, but the taste of his mouth was entirely different –stale and thick with the scent of tobacco. Taylor cringed and recoiled, coughing.

Dover smirked. "Pretty average, if you ask me."

Taylor scowled, rubbing his lips with the back of his hand. "Shut up, your breath fucking stinks."

"Yours isn't exactly a cup of mint tea, either. Come on, it's not that bad."

Taylor settled his head against Dover's shoulder. "You gotta stop smoking, really."

"Okay, we'll agree to disagree on this. Besides, it's my turn."

Before Taylor could take this in, Dover had lifted his chin and kissed him. This time Taylor did not notice the taste as much as the warmth and the slow caress of Dover's lips, the puff of Dover's breath on his face. When Dover pulled back to take a breath, Taylor found himself unwittingly following Dover's lips, continuing the kiss. Excitement coursed through him so hot and fast that he had to pull away from the kiss and gasp for air.

Dover leaned over Taylor with an elbow on either side of his shoulders and grinned. "See? Not so bad now, is it?"

Taylor shook the hair out of his eyes. "God, shut up already," he grumbled, and pulled Dover's face back towards him. All the thoughts about who he was kissing and what he should do dropped away; the pounding of the rain outside and the chill of the freezing air faded; all he could feel was the heat in his body and the feel of Dover's lips. He knew he was breathing harder than he should be, holding on to Dover's back and neck a little too tight, but the resolve he had fought so hard to keep was crumbling at the slightest touch.

Feeling overwhelmed, Dover eased Taylor's face away from him. "Woah there, tiger," he chuckled nervously, but Taylor wasn't listening. He shrugged the blankets from their shoulders and tugged Dover's shirt over his head, tossing it aside. The blankets tangled around their legs as Taylor pushed himself against Dover, turning to kiss Dover's neck. Dover winced both at the slight sting of Taylor's kiss, and the unmistakable pressure of Taylor's arousal against him. Somewhat alarmed at the ferocity with which Taylor was attacking his chest, he tried slipping his cold fingers under Taylor's shirt to the small of his back. Taylor froze, shivering at Dover's touch, and a load moan escaped his lips. The unexpected sound made Dover feel suddenly dizzy. He slid his hands down to the waistband of Taylor's pants, trailing his fingertips below Taylor's navel, and Taylor gasped and bucked his hips.

"Jesus, you weren't kidding," Dover whispered. Taylor whimpered and clutched onto Dover's shoulder so tight, Dover could feel the blood being cut off to his elbows. When Dover did not immediately resume his caress, Taylor squirmed and ran his hands down Dover's chest to grasp the front of his pants. Though more amused than aroused, Dover helped Taylor shrug off his pants, and Taylor's fingers immediately closed around him. Though Taylor's ministrations were awkward and clumsy from frustration, the touch was familiar enough for Dover to finally take the situation a bit more seriously. He let out a long, shuddering breath he hadn't noticed he was holding. As Taylor's fingers ran up and down his length, he realized Taylor's hips were rocking against his leg. He pushed Taylor's hands away for a moment to help him out of his pants, and Taylor groaned in protest at the still seconds ticking past.

"Alright, hold your horses," Dover said. Taylor kicked the seat of his pants away from his feet. "There." Before Taylor could recover himself from the shock of cold air against his legs, Dover brushed his fingers against Taylor's stiff arousal. Taylor jumped so hard the wood frame of the bunk creaked.

" _Aahh!_ " Taylor breathed, curling against Dover. His hips bucked into Dover's hand. The pressure of Dover's fingers wrapping around him washed an ecstasy of relief through his mind. Dover kept moving his hand slowly along Taylor's length, already slick with cold sweat. He grasped his own arousal with his other hand, imitating the movement. Soon both were panting and gasping as Dover's hands moved faster. Too dazed to concentrate, Dover's hold on Taylor loosened, and Taylor brushed him away to take care of the matter himself. The hissing gasp of their breath, the heat of their bodies next to each other, even the sound of Dover cursing under his breath rumbled through Taylor like a storm. He could feel his blood boiling behind his eyes in a haze of deep red, of white, as he built to a climax. Distantly he was aware of his own shamefully erotic moans. With a final jerk and a kick, he came into his hand.

Dover was still pumping his fist wildly, and he leaned his head against Taylor's shoulder and shuddered, groaning. Dazed and panting, Taylor reached his own trembling fingers to Dover's sides and pressed his lips to Dover's collarbone. Swearing loudly in Taylor's ear, Dover came against Taylor's legs. Too spent to care, Taylor gasped for breath as he felt Dover's chest rising and falling beneath his hands. Dover settled his chin against Taylor's forehead, his breath ruffling the hair on top of Taylor's head.

As his breath began to slow, Taylor braced himself for the thoughts trickling back into his head, and the emotions he expected to come with them. With Corinne, it was always the same: guilt, fear, grief, anger. Most of all, a crippling, overwhelming shame. He clenched his eyes shut, listening to the thump of Dover's heart inside his chest, the gradual return of the rain outside into his consciousness, and tried to prepare himself for the pain.

There was nothing. Only a deep feeling of relief. And something else – something he had only felt once, in a fleeting moment. Despite himself, he felt warm tears squeeze out onto his cheeks.

Coughing, Dover leaned away, relishing the fresh, cool air. He glanced down at Taylor trying to stop the tears from escaping. "Crying again?" Dover said, still slightly breathless. "Was it that good for you? Come on, it was just a handjob."

Taylor hiccupped, reaching to pull the blankets up and brush the funk from his legs.

Dover sat up, searching for his shirt and pulling it out of a crack between the bunk and the wall. He shrugged the shirt back over his head. "So, you're going to tell me what that was all about now, right?" he said, glancing sideways at Taylor.

Taylor burrowed down into the blankets, sticking close to Dover to keep from tumbling off the edge of the bunk. He sniffed and blew snot out of his nose into the blanket.

Dover settled down onto his back. "Wow, _that_ was attractive," he said, smirking.

"Sorry," Taylor squeaked.

Dover raised a brow. "So? Still waiting."

Taylor looked away, gazing absently at Dover's chest rising and falling in a calm, steady rhythm. "You know one time, I asked Melody if I could kiss her," Taylor said quietly.

"Yeah? What'd she say?"

"She cried."

"I don't blame her, you really suck at it."

Taylor rolled his eyes. "You know what she said when I asked her why?"

"Lemme guess, 'No thanks, your breath smells like ass'?"

"She had never been asked before."

There was a pause as Dover took this in. He glanced up at the empty bunk above them. "You really did love her, huh?" he said.

Taylor closed his eyes, fatigue weighing down on him. He didn't say anything, couldn't bring himself to voice the simple answer that would tear down the few walls he had left.

Dover glanced back at Taylor, watching him drift to sleep. "We could get in big trouble, you know," he whispered.

Taylor gave a soft moan and turned his face towards the mattress. Dover stared at him for a moment, listening to his breathing slow until it was lost in the drumming of rain outside. " _Shit_ , Taylor," he mumbled, massaging his temple. With a sigh, he set his head down and let the rain lull him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics are from "Corinne, Corrina" by Bo Carter.


	22. Chapter 22

Taylor was jarred awake the next morning by the yawning of the door and a loud shriek. Alarmed, he jumped so violently he tumbled off the edge of the bunk and slammed to the floor in a tangle of blankets. From this new vantage point, he had an upside-down view of Monifa with her hands clapped to her mouth, silhouetted against the cool morning light.

"Oh God, oh—! Sorry!" Monifa groaned. Taylor fought to disengage himself from the blankets and realized belatedly that he never bothered putting his pants back on. Monifa turned away with a jerk.

Dover sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Huh? Hell's going on?" he muttered sleepily, before the blurry outline of Monifa swam into focus. "Oh."

Taylor struggled to put his pants back on and realized he was trying to force them on backwards. He settled for holding up a sheet and collapsing back on his own bunk. "Monifa, what are you doing here?" Taylor said, voice croaking a little from anxiety.

Monifa peeked around her fingertips, backing towards the doorframe. "I, uh, I just—" She shook her head and cleared her throat. "I need to talk to you."

"Now?"

" _Now._ No, just you," Monifa added as Dover made to get up. Frowning, he sank back onto the mattress and began searching around the edges for a fresh cigarette. Monifa shot Taylor one last pointed look and disappeared outside, the door rattling against the frame. Taylor cast Dover an uneasy glance, who just shrugged. Pulling off his pants and putting them on the right way, he got up and stepped out into the mud, swiping his jacket off the bedpost on the way out.

It was the first sunny day Taylor had seen in a week, though the sky was still scattered with thick, fluffy clouds. The ground was soaked through and squished uncomfortably beneath his bare feet. Though the air was warmer than it had been, there was a chill breeze, and Taylor pulled on his jacket. Monifa was waiting for him around the edge of the shed. When she saw him, she grabbed him by the wrist and began to pull him bodily away from the shed, back around the dorm towards the washbasin. The dark surface of the water, nearly overflowing from the previous night's rain, rippled softly in the breeze.

Monifa released Taylor's wrist and whirled around, hands on her hips. Taylor knew this gesture of hers well, and began to feel more uneasy. For a long moment, Monifa didn't say anything, just stared at Taylor.

"Well?" she said at last.

This was so anti-climatic that Taylor couldn't help feeling annoyed. "Well _what?_ "

"Going to explain what I just saw in there?"

Taylor folded his arms. "Why, are you going to tell?" he said evasively.

Monifa leaned against the edge of the washbasin. "Depends."

"On what?"

"Your answer."

Taylor began to scratch his arms through his jacket in frustration, looking away. "It's nothing."

"Didn't look like nothing to me."

"I was just cold."

Monifa gave Taylor a hard look. "Cold," she repeated.

"Yeah. It was really cold last night. Is that wrong?"

Seeing that she was getting nowhere fast, Monifa tried a different angle. "Did he force you?" she said.

This got the reaction she was looking for; Taylor jumped and blushed furiously. "No!" he snapped.

"If he did you can tell me, it's okay."

"No, he didn't! It was m—" Taylor stopped, eyes wide. Monifa raised an eyebrow. He quickly looked away, rubbing his arms. He couldn't bring himself to speak any further. In the back of his mind he knew it was bizarre to be more embarrassed by this than what Monifa already knew about him. Yet it was still difficult to put into words, to find a way to explain something he wasn't sure he fully understood himself. With a chill of fear he realized part of his anxiety was admitting that he had gone behind Corinne's back on a part of himself that she had come to own.

"Taylor?" Monifa said, watching the emotions flit across his face.

"Look, could – could you please just forget about it?" Taylor said in a low voice. "If... if she ever found out, what we... what I..."

Monifa reached her hands out to stop Taylor's anxious scratching at his arms, and he flinched. "Alright, okay, nevermind then," she said, pulling his hands away from his arms and massaging his palms with her thumbs. Taylor relaxed slightly. "I was just a little worried, but if you say it's nothing, I believe you."

"Th-thanks," Taylor choked out.

She released his hands and patted her thighs. "Anyway, the reason I came out in the first place was to pass along a message," she said with a small sigh.

"A message? From who?" Taylor said, but he felt he already had a good idea. His stomach resumed the familiar sensation of twisting into tight knots.

"The mistress. She wants to talk to you. She's in the kitchen right now."

Heart sinking, Taylor nodded his head. "Oh... right. Okay."

Monifa folded her arms, giving him a scrutinizing look. "Need me to come with you?"

Taylor shoved his hands in his pockets and turned away. "No, I'll be fine."

"Just as well. I think there is someone I need to have a talk with, too." Taylor watched, bemused, as Monifa hurried away back towards the shed. With a long, heavy sigh, he pulled one foot after the other towards the kitchen door.

* * *

The first thing Taylor saw upon entering the kitchen was Corinne, standing behind the center island, carefully peeling potatoes with a small knife. Even this early in the morning she was perfectly composed, her dress casual but elegant, a pristine white apron wrapped delicately around her waist. He watched her beautiful porcelain hands turn the tuber as the knife worked slowly up and down, small curls of skin floating to the island countertop. Her long lashes were curved towards her hands, in no hurry to turn upwards to regard him. Watching Corinne do something so mundane, so close to his own level, felt wrong somehow, perverse.

There was a sharp _clang_ , and Taylor's eyes flitted down to the floor at Corinne's feet, where Cody was sitting with a large metal spoon and several pots. Fascinated by the noise he had just made, he began to rap the spoon against the pots. Taylor saw the slightest flicker of annoyance cross Corinne's face and, sensing the danger, hurried forward to bend down and take the spoon away from Cody.

Cody blinked up at Taylor in surprise, mouth lolling open. For a brief moment Taylor was too stunned to take his eyes away; the baby's eyes that had before seemed uniformly blue were now starting to look off-balance. The child's left eye was now a brilliant shade of green. Taylor was so off-put by this development that he didn't immediately notice that Corinne had leaned down next to him.

"Something the matter?" she said.

Taylor jumped to stand upright so fast he banged his elbow on the island countertop. He winced, eyes watering at the sharp sting rippling up his arm. Corinne righted herself more slowly, her eyes fluttering and her lips curling in amusement. Taylor blushed and tried to bend his arm to place the spoon on the counter. "Sorry... uh..." He dropped his gaze, watching Corinne's hands set aside the stripped potato and reach for another. "You wanted to see me, ma'am?"

Corinne said nothing at first, continuing to work the knife around the potato. Being so close to Corinne with a knife, even a very small one, made Taylor feel anxious. That Cody was sitting only feet away, attempting to climb inside an old pot, did not make him feel any better. He tried to keep one eye on the knife. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" she said at last.

"Yea— yes, it has," Taylor said, and stopped. Been a while since what, exactly? After all, it wasn't like he never saw her outside the house.

Corinne paused to glance up at him, noticing his hesitation. She gave a small smile. "Do you miss me terribly?" she purred.

Taylor could feel the tips of his ears burning, and knew his face was probably not faring much better. It was impossible not to look deeper beyond her words, now that he was so familiar with her games. He nodded his head, even while he crossed his arms.

She resumed her task, cutting harshly at a deep knot in the potato. "It's a pity, but I've just been so busy these days," she sighed. "He really is such a fussy baby."

Taylor was tempted to ask who she meant – Cody, or Johann – but was still painfully aware of the knife in Corinne's hand. "He's... not giving you too much trouble, is he?" Taylor said quietly. It was difficult to imagine Cody being fussy; whenever Taylor saw him, the baby looked happy, perhaps a bit aloof at worst. Aside from the occasional mumbled coo or squeal, Cody was not very noisy either.

"Well, nothing I can't handle," she said, her cold blue eyes flicking up to Taylor for a moment, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Anyway, it's you I'm worried about. You've been getting along all right, haven't you?"

Taylor leaned back against the counter, watching Cody become momentarily distracted by the sight of his own toes. "Yes, ma'am."

"And Dover, is he doing any better?"

"Yes, I think so." Cody was now attempting to seize his right foot and direct it towards his mouth. A slip of drool ran down Cody's cheek.

Corinne sighed and reached for a longer knife, which she began to use to chop the potato into thick chips. Taylor edged away slightly. "It's a shame he's picked up smoking," she lamented. "It really does nothing for him."

"I... I suppose not," Taylor said, eyeing the knife warily.

"You wouldn't pick up anything like that, would you, Taylor?" she said, examining the blade of the knife and picking off a scrap of potato with her fingernails.

"N-no, I wouldn't."

Corinne shot him a placating smile and brushed the chips aside. "Of course you wouldn't. You were never like him. You're a good boy."

Taylor felt a cold chill travel the length of his spine and winced. He cast his eyes down to Cody, who had just discovered Taylor's bare feet not far away. Cody's mismatched eyes were locked on. "Was... was there something you wanted to talk to me about, ma'am?" he said. He knew small talk was where she thrived. If he let this continue, she could toy with him at her leisure.

Corinne leaned onto her elbow to gaze up at him, idly turning the knife on the countertop. "Do I need a reason to speak to you?" she simpered. Taylor returned her gaze distantly, and her smile faded. Her eyes turned down to Cody, who was making slow but steady progress towards Taylor's ankles. "Actually, there was something in particular I wished to speak to you about."

"Yes?" Taylor said. Sensing Cody's hands padding closer, he tried to shift his dirty feet a little further from Cody's reach.

"Cody. He's almost a year old now. Time flies, doesn't it?" she said, with little warmth.

Taylor just nodded. Had it really been almost a year already? He felt dizzy.

"I don't know if you remember, but we had a deal, didn't we?" Taylor watched as she twisted the tip of the knife against the counter; every time it turned it caught the light from the window, stinging his eyes for just a moment. "Once the boy's old enough to be with you, I'd give him back, wouldn't I?"

Taylor's eyes jumped back to hers, stunned. He was surprised she remembered that; that detail had become lost even to him. The situation had felt so complicated, so inescapable, that he forgot that there had ever been a possible end date. Realizing that time might be coming soon made him feel, to his dismay, more panicked than relieved. Was he ready to cut ties with her? More importantly, was he ready to take on raising Cody?

As if she could read his thoughts, Corinne said, "Of course, I'll show you what to do. I just need you to meet me here, oh... let's say twice a week?"

Dazed, Taylor could only nod at the suggestion. He jumped at the sensation of cold on his foot; he looked down to see Cody had finally gotten his hands around his ankle.

Corinne let the knife fall against the countertop with a clatter, turning her back to the island. "Well, that's it. You're excused."

Taylor bowed, still flustered. He tried to extricate himself from Cody's drooling grip, but did not manage to get far when Corinne's voice stopped him.

"Wait."

Taylor turned to see Corinne gesture at him. He stepped back towards her, feeling uneasy, and wasn't altogether surprised when she reached her fingers to the back of his neck. The touch of her fingers was like ice, and he shivered as she pressed her lips lightly to his. His face burned as she pulled away. To his alarm, she looked confused.

"You're not lying to me, are you?" she murmured, her cold fingers drumming against the nape of his neck. "You're really not smoking?"

He blinked at her in confusion for a moment. Realization hit him like an electric shock, and he fought down the blush that was threatening to stain his cheeks. "No, I— I swear. Dover, he... he smokes around me all the time. It's not me."

Corinne's eyes stared hard back into his. Taylor could feel her fingernails dig into the back of his neck. For one painfully long moment she just stared at him, and her hand pulled away. She turned back towards the island, and Taylor seized the moment to leave the kitchen as fast as he could, unwilling to give Corinne a moment longer to ponder the taste of his lips.

* * *

As the frozen spell of winter passed and the ground began to thaw, Taylor and Dover found themselves confronted with the enormous task of a new year's harvest based solely on their labor. For the most part this involved a significant downscale, and some other complicated calculations and breeding that Johann had spent the winter preparing, but made Taylor's eyes glaze over to listen to. He left the interpretation of Johann's diagrams and explanations to Dover and tried his best to just stay out of the way and do as he was told. The hard work was a welcome respite from the endless and empty days of winter. The promise of a warm spring was in the air, and for the first time in weeks, the grief that had laid heavy upon them began to lift.

Taylor tried to meet Corinne in the kitchen twice a week as she had requested, but since Dover insisted on coming as well, this meant their meetings were often at night, when both boys were already exhausted. Whether Dover was tagging along out of sincere interest in Cody, or simply because he wanted to spare Taylor from being left alone with Corinne, Taylor couldn't begin to guess. The meetings were innocuous enough, focused on the basics of Cody's care: feeding, bathing, changing diapers. Even Dover, who had a lot of experience with children, was lost when it came to babies. Taylor was often so tired during the meetings that he had to rely on Dover to repeat notes. For a while, Dover smoked less and spent more of his free time badgering Monifa for tips, sometimes just for the excuse to play with Cody for a while. He even helped bake (as much as Monifa would let him near the oven) a small cake for Cody's birthday.

Every time Dover came back with a story about Cody, Taylor felt a twinge of guilt – and sometimes, a pang of something suspiciously like jealousy. After all, wasn't it he that Melody had entrusted with Cody's care? Wasn't it he who had suffered to keep Cody safe and healthy? And yet, why did he feel so afraid? Taylor smiled at the modest little celebration Dover and Monifa threw for Cody, but in his heart, he could only feel sick with pain and grief. The anniversary of Melody's death came and went, and he wasn't sure if he was any closer to fulfilling her dying wish. Though the strain of every day life and the things he had suffered since her death had long forced him to struggle on, he still felt her loss like a sore festering in his heart, one he knew would probably continue to smolder for years to come.

Despite his heartache there was still a part of him that was longing for something, searching for the meaning of Fingal's words that still turned over in his mind. The first time Taylor saw Cody toddle uncertainly to his feet and make his first step towards Dover's hands, that desperate feeling burned within him. Even in the shadow of all the grief and pain he had experienced in the past year – more than many felt in a lifetime – Cody still grew, still smiled, still tried to get back to his feet after every fall without tears or self-pity. Cody knew nothing of who or what he was; only happy faces and warm arms. In the back of his mind, in the depths of his heart, Taylor felt he was beginning to understand.

All the while, Taylor kept a close eye on Corinne. What he was expecting, he wasn't quite sure. He was sure beyond a doubt that Corinne would never give up her hold on him and Dover simply because she was honoring the agreement they had made. Yet she made no attempt to change the subject to anything but Cody at their meetings, and she didn't seek them outside the meetings either. Though he knew that he and Dover had gotten away with their secret, he still felt uneasy. Uneasiness and his intense fear of Corinne, however, was not enough to erase the memory of what he had done behind her back – or just how it felt to get away with it.

As spring approached and the meetings with Corinne ran shorter, Taylor spent every empty moment chasing after that one fleeting moment of complete freedom, of white-washed numbness that he had felt that night next to Dover. It wasn't easy to find now; Dover usually was so worn-out at the end of the day that his snores filled the room almost the moment his head touched the mattress, and could not be roused for anything. Though Dover had laughed when their secret escaped Corinne, he never showed as much interest as Taylor did in a repeat performance. At best he would just laugh and push Taylor away if he attempted to climb into Dover's bunk; at worst, a troubled look would cross his face, and his temper frayed the more exhausted he felt. On rare occasions he would give in to Taylor's poorly-veiled hints just to shut the boy up, though they did nothing much further beyond what they had done that rainy night. Taylor knew there was no real attraction between them, and that his advances were putting a strain on their new friendship; but in the heat of a moment, he saw no one and nothing but blissful release.


	23. Chapter 23

The time when Corinne would finally turn over Cody's care was upon them. As an unexpected test of their listening skills, Taylor and Dover faced a whole weekend alone at the farm. Johann and Corinne were planning a trip into the city for a long conference, and they were taking Monifa with them. Monifa was torn between her excitement to go along, and her obvious concern at the havoc the two boys would wreck while she was gone.

"Don't try to cook anything," she told them, buttoning up her coat. It was an old coat of Corinne's, and it both hung too far below her ankles, and clung a bit too tightly around her arms. She had done her best to make herself look presentable: her simple dress was freshly laundered and still gave off a soft aura of detergent, and she had even done her best to smooth out the frizz and kinks in her hair. Beneath her cocoa skin she blushed with anxiety. "You'll just tear the whole place apart. I threw together some meals for the two of you and left it in the icebox in the basement. Just pull it out and put it on the stove. _Don't_ try to use the oven," she said with a meaningful glance at Dover.

"No cooking, no oven. Got it," Dover said with a grin.

Monifa pushed on as if he had said nothing. Her fingers twisted together. "And I put together some things for Cody, too, don't forget to give him something every few hours—"

"We know," Taylor cut it, but Monifa wasn't listening.

"I tried to cut everything up really small but you gotta watch him just in case—"

Dover rolled his eyes. "Monifa..."

"I just fed him so he should be able to go to sleep in a half hour, he likes to hear someone's voice when he's falling asleep, you don't have to read to him—"

"Mon—"

"—but at least hum or something, I don't know, talk about the weather—"

Taylor held up his hands; her anxiety was starting to make him feel on edge. "Alright, we got—"

"—and don't wander around the house, I've already taken care of everything so don't go snooping around, make sure to lock up at night and turn off the lights—"

Johann pulled the truck out of the garage to the front of the house. Clouds of dust and dirt danced up into the light of the setting sun. There was a creak and the knock of wood as Corinne came hurrying out of the house, her auburn curls streaming behind her as she ran towards the truck.

"—if anyone comes to visit while we're gone just tell them that the Master is out and don't talk to them, I left the number of the hotel on the island in the kitchen so don't be afraid to call if you need something—"

" _Mom!_ " Dover bellowed, and this startled Monifa enough to finally cut her off. He clapped her on the shoulders and shook her lightly. "Just go already! We're not going to torch the place while you're gone."

Monifa gazed bemusedly back at Dover, then to Taylor, who gave a reassuring nod. Her dimpled face creased into a smile. "I know, I know," she sighed.

There was a loud honk and Monifa nearly jumped out of the ill-fitting coat. She turned and began to run towards the truck. "Be good!" she called over her shoulder.

"You know me!" Dover yelled back. Monifa climbed into the truck and dirt spun around the wheels in great plumes as the truck tore off down the road. For a while Dover stood and waved as they watched the truck disappear past the canyons to the horizon. When the clouds of dust finally began to drift away and the truck was nowhere to be seen, Dover finally let his hand drop. He shot Taylor a mischievous grin, and before Taylor could process what it could mean, Dover was sprinting towards the kitchen.

"Hey, wait!" Taylor called, chasing after him. "Monifa said we shouldn't—"

_Slam_. Dover had shut the door to the kitchen. Taylor could hear the lock clicking as he climbed up the steps. He gave the knob a hard tug and pounded on the door. "What are you doing?!"

" _What's the password?_ " A muffled voice came from the other side.

" _Damnit_ , Dover!"

" _Good guess._ " The lock clicked again and the door swung open. For a moment Taylor stood panting on the doorstep, seething, as Dover chuckled. Taylor stormed inside, giving Dover a hard shove into the wall.

"I mean it, don't fuck this up," Taylor grumbled, walking around the island. He glanced at the telecom code scrawled on a piece of paper.

Dover tossed the door shut again. "Come on, lighten up. This is great! Running water! Central heating! You can sleep in the shed if you want, but I'm crashing here tonight." Before Taylor could object, Dover had slipped through the swinging door into the dining room, clearly set on exploring the empty house.

Taylor crossed his arm and leaned his back against the island, gazing out the window. He had not seen any of the house apart from the kitchen and the basement, and – for one brief moment he preferred to forget – a glance at the inside of Johann's office. As much as he detested the house and everything that had gone on there, he couldn't help feeling the slightest bit of curiosity. For several minutes he paced around the kitchen, listening to Dover's footsteps echoing across the hardwood floors and his incessant chatter as he wandered around the lower floor, trying to entice Taylor to come out of the kitchen. " _I'm gonna go check on Cody_!" he yelled through the walls. His footsteps drummed up the stairs to the upper floor, and all was quiet.

Taylor stood in the dark kitchen. With a resigned sigh, he pushed open the door to the hallway and stepped outside the kitchen.

The last rays of sun glared through a round window high above the front door in the foyer. The rays hit the dusty crystal pillars of the chandelier and branched in all directions. It gave even the shadowed hallway a soft glow. The dark, polished wood of the hall felt warm against his bare feet. As he stood transfixed in the hall, his eyes strayed from the wainscoting on the walls to the faded wallpaper with its intricate patterns. A small door to his left led down to the basement, and he stepped away from it with a shiver of dread. His feet padded uncertainly down the hall. Taylor noticed that the imposing wood of Johann's office door was open a crack; in his rush to leave, he must have forgotten to close it. With trepidation, Taylor pushed open the heavy door, the hinges whining at his touch and echoing down the hall.

The office was very dark and musty. Heavy braille curtains on the tall window blocked out the twilight, with the exception of small cracks between the pleats on the bottom. Taylor gazed at the bookshelves choking all the available wall space, lined with thick tomes. The majority of the room was taken up by a massive desk strewn with papers. Though Taylor wanted nothing more to do with a space that reeked so heavily of Johann, he found himself drawn towards the desk. He didn't dare touch any of the papers, which made little sense to Taylor anyway. He pulled open a wide drawer crammed with ink bottles, old pens and pencils, and the butts of cigars. He heaved it closed and went through the rest of the drawers of the desk, most of which contained files. In a small drawer on the right side he caught a glimpse of stacks of old photographs. It was too dark to make them out; he reached over and tapped a small glass lamp on top of the desk. His eyes stung as light poured over the desk into the shadows of the drawer. Hands shaking, he pulled out a handful of the photos from the desk.

They were photographs of the children. They were all printed in a deep sepia ink on fraying cardstock, possibly by Johann himself. Many had notes scribbled on the front and back. Taylor recognized the top photograph right away: it was one he remembered Johann taking not long after he first came to the farm. All the children, even the girls from the house, were clustered around the front steps of the porch. Only Monifa, Kanya, and Dover were making any attempt to smile. Taylor caught a glimpse of himself looking timid and weary on the front step, and was struck by how much younger he looked, though the photo was not taken that long ago. He got a momentary glance of Melody clinging to his arm before he hastily turned the photograph to the back of the stack.

The other photographs were out of order, and jumped around the years. There was a photo of the field children playing in the spray of the hose on a bright summer day. Another photo showed Monifa and Yve bent over a sewing machine. More surprising were some of the oldest photos of the farm at its height: one group photo showed over two dozen people standing in front of the house, with Johann and Corinne standing on the far left side. Many of the people Taylor could not recognize, and most were adults; these he assumed must have been some of the first slaves to work on the farm, before all the adults were eventually replaced. There was a shorter row in the front of the photo of a few children, including – to Taylor's amazement – a young Dover and even younger Kaelin. Taylor could just make out the rosary hanging around Dover's neck; it had to be looped around twice to fit him. On the far right of the photo was a large, disgruntled-looking alien that Taylor assumed must have been the old overseer.

Taylor found several other photos of the old farm, including a long shot (possibly taken from the roof of the house) that showed miles of fields, and several more photos of the slaves, including one of Dover and Kaelin dwarfed by plants that stretched over their heads into the sunlight.

He carefully shuffled the photos, and was about to set them back in the drawer when he noticed one caught towards the back. He tugged it out of a crack and exchanged it for the other photos, smoothing it out onto the surface of the desk. It was scratched and torn, but he could still make out the subjects of the photo clearly.

It was the girls of the house, including – his heart skipped a beat – Melody. Nekane and Melody were sitting in chairs, with Monifa and Yve standing between them. Light streamed from a window unseen to the left of the frame. Nekane was gazing uncertainly away from the camera; in contrast, Monifa was staring defiantly into the camera. Yve stood with one hand on Melody's chair but her adoring gaze back at Monifa. In the chair, Melody sat with her fingers curled on her lap, her round, bright eyes sparkling in the light from the window. A smile tugged at her lips, and he guessed the photo must have been taken not long after she first came to the farm. Here in the world of the photograph she was alive, and healthy, and only the hazy light of the window shone brighter. For a long while he stood clutching the photograph, the blood draining from his knuckles as his hands shook. A teardrop darkened the surface of the photo and he hastily rubbed it away, scraping his eyes and taking a long gulp of air. Inside him a war over the photograph raged; if he took it with him and Johann noticed its absence, or ever managed to rediscover it outside the office... Taylor's back twinged at the thought. Yet stuffing her back into the drawer felt like burying her all over again.

" _Taylor_ _? Are you still down there_?"

Dover's voice broke through Taylor's consciousness like a gunshot, and without any further thought, he slammed the drawer closed and folded up the photo, shoving it into his pocket. _It was stuck in the back anyway_ , Taylor thought. _He'll never miss it._ He tapped the lamp off and hurried out of the office, pulling the door to behind him. "Yeah, I'm in the hall!" Taylor called back up the stairs.

Dover's face appeared in the open space over the rail high above Taylor's head. "You gonna come up and say good-night to Cody?"

"Yeah, I'll be right up," Taylor said, and Dover disappeared. The rays of sunlight had vanished, and the hall felt suddenly cold. Taylor threw the bolt on the front door and jogged up the steps. He could hear his heart pounding in his chest as he reached the landing; he had never been upstairs before.

From the top of the steps he could turn and look straight out the round window to the distant canyons. Taylor could see a faint light streaming out of the room to his left; inside he heard a low humming. Torn between amusement and dread, he walked into the room.

Dover was leaning over the edge of the crib crooning softly. Cody was cradled under the blankets, his wide, mismatched eyes gazing up at Dover's face. He cooed as Dover sang, trying to match the tones of Dover's voice. Cody's eyelids began to droop. As Taylor stepped closer, he could start to make out some of the words of Dover's song:

> "Jesus loves me, this I know
> 
> For the Bible tells me so
> 
> Little ones to Him belong
> 
> They are weak but He is strong
> 
> Yes, Jesus loves me
> 
> Yes, Jesus loves me
> 
> Yes, Jesus loves me..."

Dover seemed to notice Taylor standing there for the first time, and the last line sank under his breath: "For the Bible tells me so." Taylor opened his mouth to speak, but Dover put a finger to his lips and pointed down at Cody. As quietly as he could, Taylor tiptoed over to the crib and peered down at Cody's still face. For a moment the two gazed down as Dover lightly hummed another verse, and slowly they slipped out of the room, Dover tapping the light switch behind them and gently pulling the door to a crack.

At the look on Taylor's face, Dover frowned. "What?"

For a second Taylor could almost envision the boy he saw in the photograph, but he shook his head. "Nothing. So where are you planning on sleeping, if you're not going back to the shed?"

Dover crinkled his nose. "Where do you think?" he said, and turned towards the double doors of the master bedroom on the other side of the stairwell.

" _What? No!_ " Taylor whispered, hurrying after him. "We'll get in trouble."

"Relax," Dover said over his shoulder, his hand on the doorknobs. "We'll clean it up, they'll never notice." He turned the knobs and pushed the doors open.

Lights burst on, the warm, bright glow of two lamps set on nightstands on either side of the immense four-poster bed. Though everyone had been in a hurry to leave, Monifa must have been through there before she left; the duvet of the bed was folded into perfect, straight corners. There were only a few touches of who slept there: an ashtray, an empty tobacco tin, and a nearly empty bottle of liquor were clustered together on one nightstand. On another, a pair of earrings sat on top of a book with a worn cover. The curtains were drawn on all the windows, but by now it was too dark to see outside. Dover took a running leap onto the bed, the springs of the mattress creaking in protest as he bounced up and down on top.

Taylor rolled his eyes. "Grow up already," he said, leaning against the dresser next to the door.

Dover scooped up one of the many decorative pillows set against the headboard and hurled it towards Taylor. "Make me!" Taylor ducked and the pillow ricocheted off the doorframe into the hall. Dover rolled over and picked up the book off the nightstand on the right side of the bed, brushing the earrings off of it. He peered hard at the cover and flipped through the pages. "Eugh, romance novel," he said with a grimace of disgust, but he sunk down into the pillows and started to read, his eyes scanning slowly across the page, mouthing the words.

Taylor shook his head and walked over to the bifold doors of the bathroom, pulling them open. The lights of the vanity blinked on, shining across the polished surfaces. The stone tiles of the floor chilled his feet and he hurried onto one of the bath mats by the shower enclosure. He gave the shower a long look. As much as he did not want to disturb anything in the house if he could help it – especially in the master bedroom, a spot much more obvious than the back of a drawer – he was painfully aware of the fact that he had not had a decent hot shower in over two years. He glanced over his shoulder at Dover, hesitating. Dover had tossed the book aside and was starting to go through the contents of the nightstands and cabinets. "Hey, Dover? Think I'm gonna take a shower," he said.

Dover didn't even look up. "Yeah, sure. Go wild," he said, pulling a bottle out of a small cabinet in the corner. He twisted the cap off, sniffed the contents, and his face contorted into a look of utter revulsion.

Taylor opened the shower door and peered inside. It took several minutes just to figure out what all the knobs and buttons did, and at one point he was hit with a spray of freezing water before he was able to finally locate the knob for hot water. When steam finally began to rise from the enclosure, he peeled off his dirty clothing and jumped into the water. The hot water was almost painful at first, but the heat and the pressure of the water were soothing. He turned up the temperature as high as he could stand, the water scalding his skin to a deep red. He scrubbed soap into his hair idly, listening to the roar of the water, in no hurry to step back out into the cold air.

After several minutes, Dover appeared as a shadow in front of the foggy glass of the shower door. "What're you doing in there?"

"What do you think?" Taylor said, annoyed at the interruption.

"Probably swimming by now," Dover said. He opened up the shower door, and cold air rushed into the enclosure. Taylor gasped, more out of annoyance at the cold than the invasion of privacy. "Coming out any time soon?"

Taylor tried to grab the handle of the door away from Dover. "In a minute."

"You're gonna get all pruney." For a moment they fought over the door, and Taylor stood back, letting the water beat onto his back. Dover peered in through the steam, eyes scanning the space. "Kind of roomy for a shower. Mind if I come in?"

"Yes, I do! Wait till I'm done!" Taylor groaned. Water blurred his vision as his long bangs swept into his eyes.

Dover pulled his shirt over his head. "All the hot water's gonna be gone!"

"No it won't! _Dover_ _!_ " Dover tossed his pants aside and jumped into the shower. Taylor did his best to push him out, but Dover snapped the door shut.

"Come on, budge over," Dover said, nudging Taylor out of the way. Taylor squeezed as far into the corner as he could, frowning as he watched Dover toy with all the knobs and try out all the soaps. To his extreme annoyance, Dover suddenly dumped shampoo over his head. It trickled down his hair into his face.

"Shit!" Taylor spluttered and pushed Dover out of the way to get at the water. Dover chuckled loudly. "God damnit, Dover, it's in my eyes!" Taylor wailed, trying in vain to scrub out the soap stinging his eyes.

"Sorry, sorry. Stop rubbing them," he said. He grabbed Taylor's wrists and pulled his hands away from his eyes. Taylor blinked and tried to keep Dover in focus as water flowed into his eyes, the sting gradually subsiding. They stared at each other, and Taylor broke away.

"Just hurry up, okay? The water's starting to get cold," Taylor muttered, resting his head against the tiles on the wall.

Dover scrubbed soap into his hair and rinsed it out, watching Taylor out of the corner of his eye. Taylor was staring into space, paying no attention to Dover, rubbing his arms absent-mindedly. Even through the dark and the steam, Dover could still see the deep marks spinning around Taylor's wrists and clawing around the turns of his shoulders and sides like the cracks of dry mud. The water, gradually flowing colder, drummed in the silence between them.

"Does it still hurt?" Dover said at last. Taylor blinked out of whatever vision he had been lost in and stared quizzically at Dover. Dover gestured towards Taylor's back, and Taylor turned a little to look over his shoulder.

"Oh. Sometimes," Taylor said, his voice flat.

Without thinking, Dover reached out to trace the lines of Taylor's scars around his back. Taylor flinched at the touch of Dover's fingertips and jerked away. Coming to himself, Dover muttered and started to paw blindly at the knobs of the shower. "How do you shut this stupid thing off? _Ack!_ " He had twisted a knob that was pelting them both with a torrent of freezing water. Taylor groped along the wall, and the water shut off, dribbling a little from the faucet. Beneath their feet they could hear the swirl of the water in the pipes.

Taylor pushed his way past to stand dripping and blinking in the vanity lights. He grabbed one of the towels hanging from the shower door and sat on the edge of the bathtub, scrubbing at his skin. Dover stepped out of the shower onto the bathmat and shook himself off like a dog, spraying Taylor with droplets of water on all the spots he had just toweled off. Taylor scowled and pulled the towel over his head like a hood.

Dover wrapped a towel around his waist and rubbed his face, blinking at the light. He turned to Taylor and grinned. "Hey I almost forgot, I found something!" Without waiting for Taylor to ask what, he hurried into the other room, disappearing as he kneeled on the other side of the bed.

Taylor pulled on his pants and wrapped the towel around his shoulders, feeling uneasy. Dover reappeared in the bathroom doorway holding a large, dark bottle.

"Check it out! Found it in a box under the bed." He turned the bottle towards the vanity light and Taylor saw liquid slosh around the neck of the bottle.

"I don't think we should be drinking that," Taylor said, edging away from the bottle as if it might suddenly explode in Dover's hands.

"There's a ton of it, he'll never notice," Dover said, twisting the cap off of the bottle. An acrid stench filled Taylor's nostrils and his eyes watered. Dover held the bottle out to Taylor. "Try it!"

Taylor shook his head, pushing Dover out of the way. He sat down on the edge of the bed and watched in revulsion as Dover took a swig out of the bottle. Dover bent over and grimaced, shaking his head. His eyes watered and he coughed. "See, great," he said in a choked voice.

"Yeah, really tempting," Taylor said, crossing his arms.

Dover threw himself down next to Taylor, rocking the whole bed. Taylor had to grab the edge of the bed to keep from being thrown off. "Come on! Just one sip," Dover said.

"It smells like shit," Taylor said, eyeing the bottle in Dover's hands warily.

Dover sneered and pressed the bottle in Taylor's face. "Just do it. It's just the two of us here. There's no one to stop us." He took another sip of the bottle and winced. He set the bottle on Taylor's knee.

Taylor stared at it for a long moment. He knew what it was and what it could do. He had seen Johann in enough drunken rages to hate it deeply. And yet... he was curious. What was there to stop him? What was he afraid of? Hand shaking, he closed his fingers around the neck of the bottle and brought it to his lips. More sharp fumes stung his nose. He could feel Dover's eyes watching him. His courage failing, he threw the liquid back into his mouth. In his anxiety he took too big of a swig, but it was too late; the liquid burned in his mouth and he struggled to swallow, gasping as it hit him with a rush of heat so intense he had to grip his knee not to immediately throw it back up. Through his coughs he could hear Dover laughing.

"How was that, feels great, huh?" Dover said.

Taylor scrubbed tears from his eyes. "Feels like crap," he muttered. He could still feel the liquid flowing towards his stomach.

"Yeah does the first couple of times," Dover said with a shrug. He took another swig from the bottle and passed it back to Taylor. Taylor frowned, but took the bottle back. He tried taking a smaller sip. It still burned, but at least he didn't feel like spitting it out right away. He passed the bottle back to Dover, and they started to pass it back and forth.

"So I've looked around this whole room," Dover said, leaning back against the bed. "And now I'm dead sure."

"About what?" Taylor sipped idly at the liquor, watching a bead of water drip down Dover's forehead.

"That those two never fuck ever."

Taylor choked a little, passing the bottle back to Dover. "What makes you so sure?"

Dover took a long swig and shook his head. "Come on, really? I mean, it's too clean. Too perfect." He sniffed and gazed around the room. "Do you know what I'm talking about?"

Taylor didn't know. In fact, he was having trouble following what Dover was talking about. He could feel the heat the of the liquor spreading slowly towards his fingers and toes. Already his head felt light, and there was an odd, familiar feeling of peace. He nodded.

Dover took another sip of the bottle and handed it back to Taylor. "There's no atmosphere. There's no spark."

Taylor wrinkled his nose and let out a snort. "Spark?"

"You know, a connection."

Taylor sipped the alcohol thoughtfully, pulling his legs up onto the bed. The alcohol was starting to lose its sharp taste, and he could drink more of it at a time. "Does that really matter? Do you really need that?"

"Shit. I don't know." Dover swiped the bottle back. "They must have loved each other at some point, though, right? Or, why did they get married?"

Taylor pulled himself back to sit against the pillows. He stretched his legs out to nudge idly at Dover's knees with his feet. Dover passed the bottle back. "I don't know. Never asked." He didn't feel like talking about this now. The liquor filled him like air in a balloon. Thoughts jumped into his head and out of his mouth before he could even notice them. "Love doesn't matter anyway."

Dover pushed himself up to drape his hands around his knees. "Why not?"

This stopped Taylor short. He couldn't think of anything. His mouth gaped open. "I..."

"You think because she doesn't really love us, it doesn't matter?"

Taylor clamped his mouth shut and set the bottle aside, almost missing the nightstand. "That's not what I meant..."

Dover pulled himself across the bed to sit next to Taylor. "So what? You think since I don't really love you, it doesn't matter?"

Taylor shook his head. His thoughts were jammed. He wasn't sure what Dover was trying to say.

"Or is it just because Melody's gone?"

Taylor pulled a pillow into his lap and buried his face in it. Closing his eyes made him feel dizzy. "I dunno... I don't know..." He felt Dover's hand settle on the back of his head. He raised his head out of the pillow to see Dover leaning in front of him. He was so close that Taylor could smell the faint warm stench of liquor on his breath. Taylor expected him to say something else, something that made a little more sense, but Dover just stared at him, wrapped up in some thought or memory that Taylor couldn't read. Dover leaned in closer, and Taylor couldn't say who started it, but in an instant they were kissing each other so hard that their breaths became gasps. Taylor slipped back onto the pillows with Dover over him.

Dover sat back as Taylor's lungs fought for air and his vision swam. Dover's face split into a lop-sided grin. "Hey, I've got an idea."

Taylor groaned and rubbed his face. "Oh God."

"Let's do it, right here."

"Ugh, Dover... now?"

"Yeah, now!" Dover leaned onto his elbow, running the opposite hand along Taylor's arm. "What, you don't want to do it? You're always on me about it."

"I know, but..." Taylor's head swam; Dover was massaging his thighs, and he could feel his heart beating wildly against his chest. It was too difficult to think, felt merciful to just get lost in Dover's touch, the warmth of Dover's breath. "Cody's across the hall," he finished lamely.

"Monifa told me he sleeps like a rock," Dover said. "Come on. This may be the only time we get to do it here. They're never gonna know." He kissed Taylor's bare chest, the staccato of Taylor's heat drumming against his lips. "Let's just go crazy for one night. Come on. Please." His encouragement faded to whispers as he wrapped his arms around Taylor, and Taylor wasn't objecting anyway.

* * *

Time slipped past in a blur. In a drunken haze, the two went farther than they would have dared to go, sprawled across the sheets of their master's bed. Together they explored every inch of each other's body, an unbridled tumble of groping and thrusting, their gasps and moans occasionally stifled by the press of lips. Tender and rough, fast and slow, they moved together without thought, lost in the passion of freedom and release, defiance and rebellion. For one night they could reclaim what was theirs; in one desperate moment they could believe nothing else mattered. There was no fear, no pain; just an endless calm, a wild peace.

Their bodies slowed, and their voices died. Taylor laid in a twist of sheets, the duvet long since kicked to the foot of the bed. He listened to the steady in and out of Dover's breath, watched the twitch of Dover's eyelids as his eyes darted across some unknown dreamscape. The grip of the alcohol was leaving him, and he felt both full, and oddly empty. His eyelids drooped; the room spun away; he was falling through a dark veil.

Rain. Rain splashed in great droplets against his face, curving across the skin of his cheeks. He was running; his arms were pumping back and forth in front of him. His legs struggled to keep up beneath him, tumbling and tripping over the treacherous stones and pebbles of the canyon bottom. High stone walls towered over him on either side, stained a slate blue in the overcast sky. Rain poured down the walls, spilled around the stones, grabbed at his bare feet and tried to pull him down. His arms windmilled, his balance shaken, but he could not stop, he could not stop running. Wind whipped through his hair, streaming water. Lightning flashed. Thunder shook boulders from the walls, crumbling down towards him, slamming into his path. Thunder rattled his body and almost made his heart stop. He slipped over the boulders, climbed over them, put on an extra burst of speed as a torrent of water poured across the sides of the canyon like water in a tipped glass. Just before the water overtook him the canyon walls fell away; he burst into a great expanse of white, and for a moment he was blinded. He fell to his knees, but instead of rock, his legs met soft grass. He looked up, and as his eyes adjusted, a vista opened up before him like the spreading pigment of watercolor dripped on paper.

He was kneeling on the top of a hill overlooking a long valley. The valley was carpeted in thick grass, a shimmering green ocean stretching endlessly before his eyes. Blotches of white wildflowers dotted the landscape. In the distance he could see the soft purple form of mountains, gray storm clouds circling their peaks like crowns. The breeze sweeping past him had the crisp scent of grass after a spring rainfall. Already he could see the clouds moving away, letting warm sunlight pool across the valley.

As he looked back down at his hands, he saw that the scars that had torn across his skin were gone. Gone also were the black numbers from his wrist. With wonder he looked about, even touched a hand to his right cheek, but it was as if the rain had washed all traces of pain or hardship from him. His skin glowed in the sunlight; his clothing was fresh and bright, so brilliantly white his eyes stung to look at them. The wind tousled his hair, and he took a deep breath, feeling his lungs expand like a newborn taking its first gasp of life.

His eyes strayed to the field before him, and he noticed a shape emerge out of the wildflowers. A girl was kneeling there. Her hair was full and golden, and it streamed like a banner in the breeze, woven with the blossoms of white flowers. The cream of her skin glowed with light and warmth in the sun. Her dress was made of a white material that seemed to flow like swirling clouds in the wind. As she rose to her feet, her eyes lifted to him. They seemed to mirror the sky behind her head, and in that glance between them, he suddenly knew her.

Over the hill he ran towards her, the wind whistling in his ears. The petals of flowers flew up into the air as his feet scattered them. She stood still, smiling as he approached. A few more strides, and they seemed excruciating for the seconds they kept him from wrapping his arms around her, scooping her up, letting the momentum of his run carry them both into a spin. Her hair gleamed gold as it swirled around them, and her laughter fell like the soft patter of rain on his ears. Her feet touched the earth, and he stood back, overcome with wonder and joy. Tears streamed down his face.

She smiled and spoke, but no words came out; only the quiet whisper of the wind. Her mouth closed, and worry knitted her brow. She took his hands in hers, and moved closer, so close he could hear the intake of her breath, see the beat of her heart in her neck. She leaned in and her lips settled on his. He closed his eyes, and through the backs of his eyelids, all he could see was a blinding white.

Taylor opened his eyes. He was staring into the glow of the lampshade on the nightstand. Behind it, daylight streamed through the sheer curtains. Dazed, he sat up and looked over his shoulder. The bed was empty. He realized his cheeks were wet, and he wiped them on his shoulders.

Taylor heard footsteps up the stairs, and a moment later, Dover appeared in the doorway, Cody in his arms. Cody looked sleepy but content. Dover's clothing was set with sharp wrinkles from a night spent on the damp bathroom floor. Dover's face split into a wide yawn as he stepped into the room.

"Good morning," he said.

Taylor rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. "I guess it is," he mumbled.

Dover sat down at the foot of the bed, bouncing Cody on his knees. Cody giggled. Dover massaged his temple. "Ugh, I have the worst headache. I swear I puked for like an hour this morning." He fell back against the bed and Cody squealed with laughter. "I'm never gonna drink again," he groaned.

Taylor wrapped his arms around his knees. The hangover was hitting him too, and pain pulsed in his forehead and twisted his gut. He gave a wry smile. "It was your idea," he said.

"When have my ideas ever been good?" Dover retorted. Cody squeezed out of Dover's arms and rolled onto the bed. He tried in vain to stand on the shaky surface of the mattress. Every time he fell forward onto his tiny hands, he pushed himself up again. "What about you? Did you sleep okay? I noticed you were kind of twitching a lot in your sleep."

Taylor held his hands out to Cody, who had finally managed to stand up without shaking. Cody started to take slow steps towards Taylor, fighting to stay upright. "Yeah, it was just... a weird dream."

"Weird how?"

"I don't know. It was so real, like I was actually there." Cody took one last step and fell into Taylor's arms. He squealed again, patting his hands against Taylor's knees. "But I think I finally understand something."

Dover rubbed his eyes with the tips of his fingers. "Yes, what's that?"

"What Fingal said, when I... ran away."

"That crazy guy from the city?"

"He's not crazy. I think he was right." Cody sat down next to Taylor and babbled quietly as his hands explored all the marks on Taylor's arms. They traced up in fascination to the raised scar tissue of Taylor's left wrist, up to the string of numbers. "I get what it means, now. To hold onto something. To make peace with myself."

Dover sat up, gazing at Taylor with a bleary curiosity.

Taylor clasped Cody's small hands in his. "You know, I'm glad all this happened. If not, we wouldn't be here. Right?"

Dover squinted and tilted his head. "Are you still drunk? I can't understand a word you're saying."

Taylor smiled, and he scooped Cody up into his arms. Cody laughed, a tiny echo of a dream. Taylor passed Cody over to Dover, and retrieved his pants from the floor. "Come on, let's make breakfast."

"Oh God, we are going to blow up the whole kitchen, I just know it," Dover groaned. He followed Taylor towards the stairs, pausing in the doorway. "Hey wait, what about this mess? Master's gonna freak out. You're gonna help me clean this up, right?"

Taylor turned. "Yeah. But not right now." He stepped out onto the landing, into a flood of morning sunlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from "Jesus Loves Me" by Anna Warner and William Bradbury.
> 
> To continue the story from here, jump to chapter 10 of 'Amount to Nothing', which can also be found in my archive.


End file.
